Maskless
by Tobi Is My Name
Summary: What if Erik had been rescued instead of escaping to the Opera House?
1. Of Choices and Chances

**A/N: So here's the skinny. In my LND fic I had Raoul musing on if Erik had been discovered as a child instead of escaping to the Opera House (it doesn't matter if you've read that one or not) so I decided to write it. RnR please.**

The Comte Damien de la Roche traversed the traveling Gypsy circus, it was rather later than he expected to be out but the performance had been lovely at the Opera de Populaire and he was hoping to find a little something interesting for his son, Robért and was determined to hunt about the various stalls until he found it.

How he ended up in the freak tents was out of simple curiosity, he was not one to jeer or throw things at the occupants of the cages or booths, he kept his distance and only gazed ever so slightly before turning and leaving. So why he would even go into the black and red tent with the dripping words 'Devil's Child' scrawled across the front banner was beyond him but there he was, looking down at a boy in a sack hood crouching in straw at the bottom of a cage and Damien could not suppress a shudder at the conditions.

He was about to leave when the barker pushed into the tent and into the cage, beat the child mercilessly then removed his hood, forcing the child to look up by grabbing a fistful of messy locks of hair and yanking him upright and then the crowd went mad.

Damien's eyes widened as he looked upon the child's visage but not in shock or horror but pity as the boy scrambled to cover his face again and that was when the Comte could no longer stand it,

"Villains!' He roared, and being a large man with a deep voice he was instantly the center of focus, "How dare you! You would heap insult and abuse upon a child? What horrendous monsters are you? My own son in a cage would be no less shocking yet how many would cry out in outrage over him than this poor boy's predicament!"

All was quiet as Damien raged at them, his heart cracking at every turn, this was the ultimate low of human kind, this was the world he lived in and the one his son would inherit? Not on his watch.

The tall Frenchman walked up to the barker, "I will give you 500 Francs for the boy."

The members of the crowd that hadn't tried to scuttle off in the wake of Damien's fury looked at each other in mixture of apprehension and confusion. The barker's mouth hung open and he couldn't take the money fast enough before turning and leaving with a muttered 'take the freak' over his shoulder.

Damien glared after the greasy Gypsy then turned and looked at the boy who cowered in a corner, the Comte quickly softened his features and held a hand out,

"It is alright, child, I only bite when angered." He smiled a little and saw the scrawny shoulders immediately relax and the boy scooted forward, undoing the tether from his ankle and hesitantly left the cage, glancing up at Damien before feinting back several paces and standing ready to bolt.

"You have a choice to make now," Damien put both hands on the silver stallion-head pommel on his cane, "You may either come with me where I can promise you warm clothes, food and a bed. Or you may flee this place and find your own way. I did what I did because someone had to act otherwise I would be no more human than the dancing bear they have here."

The boy glanced over his shoulder then seemed to consider something before nodding to himself and slowly, carefully moving closer to Damien, clutching the toy monkey he had to his chest and shivering,

" . . . I . . . I am cold." He whispered in a voice weak and strained from disuse. Or quite possibly this wasn't quite a child but a young man on the cusp of manhood, it was difficult to tell with a sack on his head and how thin and emaciated his body was.

Damien nodded and pulled his cloak from his shoulders, he reached forward to remove the sack but the child leaped back and crouched lower to the ground as if he expected an assault,

"I'm not going to harm you, boy, I would just as well not have my cloak soiled by whatever is on that thing. We can cover your head with the cloak."

The boy didn't object further but put his hands in front of his face to hide again until the heavy cloak with the big silver clasp was settled on his head and tucked around him.

"Come along." The Comte led the child away from the crowds and to his private carriage, "We will leave this dismal affair behind."

The boy didn't say anything for a long time before glancing up and pulling the warm cloak closer, "I . . . My name is Erik."

"And mine is Comte Damien de la Roche." Damien said softly, resting his elbows on his knees, "How old are you, Erik?"

" . . . I'm not sure." Erik said, his voice had a haunted quality to it but Damien could not begrudge him of it, the boy had been through too much to not be irrevocably scarred.

"Well then, I suppose we shall have to assign you a birthdate and age, hmm? I would imagine based on your height that you are perhaps 10? 11? That would make you a year or two older than my own child, Robert, who is 9." Damien nodded to himself at this plan, "It isn't important right now, what we will concern ourselves with at the present is getting you clean, fed and in some decent clothing. Perhaps not in that order."

"May I ask . . . why? You said someone had to but, why did you do anything?" Erik peeked up from under his scraggly locks and the edge of his makeshift hood.

"Why I did what I did? Because, Erik, you are a child, whether your face is scarred or not, and I cannot abide by someone mistreating children, or women for that matter, the very idea of a little boy not much older than my own being locked in a cage, beaten, and humiliated in front of crowds of unfeeling laymen with nothing better to do with their lives than make a mockery of others less fortunate makes my skin itch and crawl." Damien sat back and Erik looked up enough to get a good look at him.

Erik had caught glimpses of human beings in every facet of life and every shape and form. He'd seen rich and poor, fat and thin, ugly and beautiful all gathered around his cage, but he was not sure if he'd ever seen anyone quite like the Comte. The man was very tall, he had to remove his hat in order to sit in the carriage and not bump his head, but he wasn't old, his face and hair were young and unmarred by time as if he were not human at all but something more. The man's black hair was short and well kept, beard styled to be short and cling to his chin and around his ever-smirking lips and above that was a rather slim nose and bright glittering brown eyes. A handsome man and a rich man and . . . a generous one. Erik had never met another person that gave money away without thinking, he had enough of a grasp of economics and numbers to know that the sum of money Damien threw at the barker was more than most people at the circus had ever seen at one time.

This of course did not mean that Erik was relaxing at all, there was no evidence to support that this man wasn't just like everyone else. This man could be a charlatan and therefore not trustworthy but the offer was tantalizing; food and warm clothes and a bed were . . . luxuries and Erik was loathe to give that chance up. Even so, he had a plan if things went wrong, he would run as far as he could and indeed 'make his own way'.

* * *

Erik stepped into the bathroom after Damien, watching the man as he started to get the bath going, he looked around and gaped at the opulence of the room. The claw-foot bath, the mirror and sink and things. Erik was mesmerized by the world he found himself in and couldn't help but want to touch everything but too afraid of doing so and thereby destroying it somehow.

"I'm going to get you something to wear, will you be alright alone?" Damien stood and moved to the door.

Erik nodded and waited until Damien left before investigating the one thing that had his attention more than any other. The mirror. Erik had never seen his reflection but he knew what mirrors did, he had heard talk of the 'Magic Mirrors' the Gypsies set up that warp people images. Erik knew also why he was put in a cage, he knew what scars looked like as he had more disfigurement on his right shoulder and that side of his chest but only a little and he could feel the scarring across his face and when he spoke the corner of his mouth on the right side would pull at the rest of his face like it was connected by a short string, but . . . he'd never actually seen it. So Erik dropped the cloak and moved to the edge of the sink, leaning up on his toes and then lifting his head and looking at himself for the very first time and-

Erik didn't remember crying out or throwing himself away from the mirror but somehow he was sitting on the floor in the corner sobbing, frightened by his own image and suddenly coming to the realization that he was indeed a monster, hideous and twisted, he knew at that moment of why he was put in a cage, why he wore the sack over his head and why Mother had looked at him like that, how she would back away when he wanted her to pick him up, to hold him, why she would lock his bedroom door at night even though his dreams would sometimes scare him and he would want her comfort.

Erik sobbed and huddled further into the corner, weeping pitifully until the door opened and Damien came in again, setting some things down and moving to crouch in front of Erik's shuddering form. The Comte reached over and turned the water off before addressing the boy,

"Whatever is the matter, Erik?"

"M-My face!" Erik gasped, his eyes flitting to the mirror then back down and away from Damien's eyes, "It- I never . . . "

"You've never seen your face before." Damien surmised after glancing over his shoulder at the mirror and sighing, "I see . . . Erik, it is a face, everyone has a face and there's nothing more about it."

"But mine! It's hideous! And-And twisted in the wrong way, like . . . like a melted candle." Erik sobbed and covered said face in his hands, shaking his head miserably, "How can you say there's nothing more?"

"Erik," Damien made the boy look up at him, "You have a mouth, two eyes and a nose. You have a face. There is nothing out of place about it, you are scarred and that is all. Do you see me flinching away?"

Erik swallowed and shook his head, " . . . no."

"There then, it doesn't bother me now that I see it fully, but if it would make you feel better I can have a mask made for you to cover it." Damien stood and gestured to the bath, "Before the water is cold then."

* * *

Erik rolled over in the soft bed and groaned, sitting up and swinging his long leg over the side, he'd been scrubbed within an inch of his life but he felt good, clean hair and fingernails and everything felt good. And he was wearing one of Damien's nightshirts which was understandably too big but that was alright for now. But this bed . . . it was too soft.

Erik dragged a pillow and several blankets off the bed and onto the floor. He proceeded to make himself a nest and then curl up snuggly, letting his body warm up the patch of wood flooring and it felt much better to fall asleep now.

**A/N: and there you go. I hope you like it thus far, I'm not sure my plans for it quite yet as I normally don't when I write but I truly hope you will enjoy it, dear reader. RnR if you please.**


	2. Of Books and Flowers

**A/N: well this proved more fun than a bag full of wigs so I suppose I shall carry on since now I have some more ideas! **

Erik slid around the corner, keeping close to the wall as he crept along on barefoot, now that there was probably no one awake he felt the itch to go exploring. He hadn't realized just how large the house was until he tried to map it out in his head; which soon proved impossible so he chose instead to number the rooms as he went.

1\. Bedroom he was in

2\. Bathroom he had been in already (despite curiosity, the mirror kept him away)

3\. A room with a big desk and fireplace

4\. Bedroom

5\. Bedroom

6\. Bedroom

7\. Room with huge glass windows

8\. Another bedroom with someone in it (asleep thankfully)

9\. Bathroom only this one didn't have the large tub like the other one

10\. . . . closet with cleaning things in it.

Erik soon lost interest in trying to count the rooms and this was only on the top floor! He found the stairs again, running his fingers lightly over the highly-polished wood, tracing the delicate lines of the grain as he went down the carpeted stairs.

He peeked around the corner of the stairwell and into another large room, this one was full of . . . things. Erik immediately began to pick up objects and run his fingers over them curiously, some were quite odd. For example, there was a large ball in a stand that turned in every direction and had different colored splotches painted on it with symbols on each blob, Erik spun it several times, thoroughly enjoying how the colors almost melded when it went fast enough. He found something that looked like a small closet but instead of brooms or coats in it there was a gold disc that swung back and forth, it was mesmerizing and Erik found himself staring at the shiny object that made a distinct clicking sound each time it made it to either side of the closet. Erik shook his head and moved on, feeling a bit giddy as he went to some shelves with the same objects on them from floor to ceiling.

Erik pulled one object off the shelf and stared at it, it was flat with a soft leather wrapping but only around part of it, He sat down on the floor with it and turned it over in his hands, surprised when it opened up like a box but it wasn't a box, there was no compartment inside, instead there were wafer-thin pieces of paper, very unlike the thick posters the circus had used when they went into a new town. And on the pages were the same symbols that had been on the ball that spun. Erik stared at the symbols, some were joined together and each group was separated from its neighbor by a space. It was vastly confusing because it felt like there must be a reason for having page upon page of these symbols and Erik found himself frustrated with the notion that he didn't understand it at all. He pulled another off the shelf only to find himself confronted with even more symbols. Another and another and another and still they were there, the same ones over and over and Erik felt anger welling up inside, why didn't he understand them? Why were there _so many_ but not one symbol or group of symbols looked familiar? Should they be familiar? Was it a puzzle or a game and he just didn't know the rules?

Erik sat with the stack of things full of symbols and began opening them up randomly, trying to find some correlation between the groups and the long lines of them that would start over with a different leader after a spot or curved line at the end. He pondered them then began to question why this was so important? Why did he want to know so badly what a bunch of nonsense meant? Why did he care at all? He was almost in tears of frustration when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. Erik jolted in surprise and snapped the thing shut, he scrambled to his feet and there was Damien, eyebrow raised and the half-smile in place,

"You're up early."

Erik opened his mouth to say something in way of an excuse but nothing came to him, he glanced back at the shelves and realized he'd pulled the first two free of all the flat, perplexing symbol pages.

"Reading, were you?" Damien crossed the room and picked up a book, "I didn't figure you for a de Balzac man."

"Reading?" Erik blinked and moved closer, peering up at the Comte as the man's eyes moved back and forth along one of the pages of the book.

Damien looked up, "Yes, you've pulled nearly all the books off my shelves, I-" He stopped himself as Erik's eyebrows knit together, " . . . Can you read?"

Erik flushed a bit, he didn't know what was being asked of him, could he? He wasn't quite sure what was meant by the question, he hadn't even known the objects were called 'books' until just now, whatever they were, "I don't know."

Erik felt his frustration again, saying that phrase felt odd, it felt wrong somehow and he felt stupid that he either didn't understand what Damien was asking or what it was this 'reading' was but then how could he?

Damien cocked his head to the side and held the book out with the pages facing Erik, pointing at a line of symbols, "Do you know what this means?"

Erik squinted at the line but tried to keep his head down at the same time, Damien was looking at him expectantly and suddenly this felt like the single most important thing in the world to know. He . . . he _liked_ Damien and he didn't want to disappoint the man, this of course didn't mean that Erik was going to move any closer than the space he'd created by stepping back a few paces. But, alas, as he moved his eyes over the line several times, he didn't know and he sadly shook his head because there was a lump in his throat and he couldn't seem to get any words past it.

"No? Then what were you doing?" Damien knelt down and began putting the books back on the shelf.

Erik didn't know how to answer that one either, what had he been doing? Now that he knew that Damien knew what the symbols were and what the 'books' were for he felt stupid in admitting that he had sat there struggling with the symbols in a vain attempt to force them to make sense. His shoulders slumped and his eyes stung, this felt . . . wrong, he suddenly didn't like not knowing something someone else knew, he wanted to know and understand and not having that knowledge hurt.

"Erik?"

Erik lifted his eyes a little and caught site of Damien's look of . . . concern? He faltered a bit, he was unused to someone looking at him like that . . .

"Erik, are you alright?" Damien tried to move closer but Erik only pulled back another step, this made a flicker of temper flash in Damien's eyes but he sighed and it went away, "Erik, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Just tell me what's wrong."

Erik's eyes flitted from Damien to the door and back, he backed up another step, not out of fear he just needed a little more space to think better but he was disarmed by Damien's continued look of concern and he found himself considering things like admitting to how upset not understanding and knowing made him. He opened his mouth once then closed it and tried again,

"What . . . what _does_ it mean?" He asked softly.

Damien blinked then picked the book up again, flipping to a page, "It's a story, Erik, a book has a story in it."

"How?" Erik peered at the book.

Damien opened his mouth a few times then shook his head, "I do not know how to explain it. Perhaps we shall have to teach you to read and then you will see for yourself."

Erik blinked, "Someone would teach me to read?" He shifted his weight slightly, "I don't . . . Who?"

"Robért's tutor could, if you were so inclined to sit in on the lessons. In fact, I think that's a splendid idea, I'll inform him tomorrow and you can begin immediately." Damien nodded to himself in satisfaction as he put the other books on the shelves, "Though I think you'll find some of Robért's books more enjoyable and age-appropriate, these are a bit daunting, even for me."

Erik muddled through more unexpected feelings, he had yet to meet Robért and was uncertain as to how he should feel at this point about meeting new people, or how they would feel about meeting him for that matter,

"But . . . " Erik bit his lip.

"Yes?" Damien glanced around at the child.

"What about . . . " He gestured to his face vaguely, he was conscious of the fact that since Damien had entered the room he had kept his head down or slightly to the side out of his own apprehensions, only just discovering that night as to why he'd been where he'd been the past years.

Damien blinked for a moment then smiled gently, "You have nothing to worry about."

"How can you say that?" Erik snapped, anger once more rearing its head and he glared up at Damien, "Look at me! I'm-"

"I am looking at you and I can assure you, with Robért you have nothing to be- "

"Papa?"

They both turned to the doorway and Erik quickly hid himself as best he could as a small boy moved into the room,

"Who are you talking to?" The boy stood close to the book's shelves and had a hand on them but didn't look like he was going to take any down, he was just . . . touching them.

"Good morning, petit faon," Damien moved in front of the . . . fawn? And put his hand on his shoulder, gently maneuvering the boy to stand directly in front of him and a few paces from where Erik was pressing himself into a corner, "Robért, this is Erik, he's going to be living with us for a while."

"Oh. Well, hello then, Erik." Robért smiled and started to move forward with his hand outstretched.

Erik was about to bolt when he got a good look at the boy. Robért was blind. He could have kicked himself for not coming to that conclusion earlier but it was now quite obvious. The younger boy's eyes were pale and were focused on a spot on the opposite wall. It was so strange, Erik had never actually known any blind people but the older Gypsies in the circus lost their sight and had to be lead around so he knew what it meant to be blind and he knew now that Robért could not, in fact, see him.

Despite watching the child intently, Erik still jumped a bit when the hand touched his arm and then moved down to his hand, grasping it firmly in a handshake before releasing it and stepping back a few paces.

And this is where it truly began to get interesting.

* * *

Erik followed Robért about the house, the boy's cane tapping against objects as he moved it back and forth rhythmically with his own steps. It was as mesmerizing as the swinging thing in the closet that Damien explained was called a 'clock' and kept 'time' for them. Erik wasn't certain why they would store something inside the closet with that disc moving about so much but he didn't really care, he was more interested in the fawn.

Robért stopped walking and looked over his shoulder for a moment in Erik's direction, " . . . what?"

"Nothing." Erik said quickly, backing up a step, he knew he liked his space so maybe the fawn wanted his too and perhaps he was disturbing Robért by being so very close.

" . . . " Robért scrunched his nose up and turned around, resting the top of his cane under his chin and putting his jaw forward in a rather comical expression, "Is there something you want to ask me, Erik?"

"No." Erik lied, he actually had a multitude of questions but he didn't want to encroach upon another person like that in the same way he did not think he would care for too many questions.

"Are you sure?" The boy pressed, his eyebrow arching in a mirror of his father's normal expression.

Erik hesitated and looked more closely at Robért. The fawn was really a spitting image of his father aside from his eyes, he had the same dark hair kept short and facial structure, he was obviously younger than Erik by his height alone, his head coming just under Erik's shoulder, but there was something about him that wasn't his father but someone else, not quite just Robért but not quite apart from him. Erik couldn't put his finger quite on it . . .

"Well . . . " Erik fidgeted, unused to being put on the spot so much, "What can you see?"

Robért actually snorted at the question and crossed his arms, pushing his cane under one armpit, "Nothing."

"What?" Erik's eyes widened slightly, "What do you mean, 'nothing'? Surely you must be able to see something."

"No, I can't see anything, its all dark." Robért set his jaw like he expected something.

"But . . . but how do you move about so well?" Erik looked around the expansive dining room with all the chairs and a long table and white plates in cupboards and wine glasses made of delicately thin glass or something similar.

"Because I know where I am and where I am going and I've lived here forever so I know where everything is." Robért shrugged his shoulders and gestured around, "And if I don't know it's there then my cane will find it. Though I don't like it as much since it jabs my belly when I _do _find something different." Robért grimaced and rubbed his middle a bit.

Erik blinked slowly then narrowed his eyes and got right up in Robért's face, bending down a bit so that they were eye-level, "You can't see me."

"No." Robért backed up an inch as if he knew Erik was closer.

"Then how did you know I was close?" Erik grinned, he'd found a loophole! Robért was obviously lying otherwise he wouldn't have backed up! Erik liked this feeling of knowing better than someone else, it felt . . . good.

"Because I felt you." Robért snapped, narrowing his eyes and balled his hands into fists.

"I didn't touch you." Erik pointed out, crossing his arms and smirking.

"No, but I can feel you, like I know there's a chair right here and- Look, I don't know how I know I just do, okay?" Robért pouted and glared in Erik's general direction.

Erik grinned wider, practically sneering as he sidestepped and laughed when Robért kept looking in the same direction, "Where am I now?" He taunted, this felt good to be in power for once, to have someone that was powerless to do anything about him.

The fawn's head snapped about in confusion then he turned toward the wall and moved forward, his hand outstretched for it, leaving the cane aside as he touched the wall, "I don't care."

Erik laughed then, "Yes you do, you can't see me and I could do whatever I wanted and there's nothing you could do about it!"

There was no response from Robért then the boy shrugged and turned and started to feel his way out of the room, "I suppose you're right."

Erik blinked, watching the fawn leave the room, it wasn't any fun if Robért didn't get upset or angry . . . he glanced over and spotted the cane that Robért had left behind propped up on a chair. He blinked for a moment then reached over and took it in his hand, he could snap it in half over his knee . . . he could hide it . . . he could do whatever he wanted and Robért would be helpless to stop him. Erik bit his lip slightly because suddenly his game of power wasn't fun, it wasn't exciting to be in power this way, because he remembered how he felt when his face was unmasked and he couldn't stop it. He hefted the cane in one hand and made his way to the door, wandering about until he found the fawn in the Solar, sitting next to a potted plant. Erik hesitated before moving closer and sitting arm's length from Robért and pushed the cane across the floor until it nudged the fawn's leg. Robért didn't jump in surprise, he simply reached down and took it then went back to running his hand over the large purple flower's petals.

"I . . . " Erik bit his lip, "I'm sorry, I was a bully."

The fawn nodded and gestured to the flower, "It's an iris. I only know that because Papa told me so, but I do know exactly what it looks like."

"You can't see." Erik pointed out, but he wasn't being cruel, he was genuinely curious as he watched Robért stroke the petals with his fingertips.

"No, I can't, but my fingers told me what it looks like," Robért explained, looking at Erik, "I can't see anything at all, I've been blind since birth, but its okay because my fingers make the picture I need and everything is okay again."

" . . . what about color?" Erik asked softly, reaching out to touch another of the large blooms, this one was white.

"I don't know color."

Erik's eyes widened, "You don't? Not any color at all?"

"No, I was _born_ blind Erik, I don't know colors. Just darkness." Robért huffed and dropped his hand from the flower, "Don't be difficult on purpose."

"I'm not." Erik defended, he was truly flabbergasted by a person not being able to understand color, something that Erik could lose himself in forever, color and sound and motion and all sorts of things that enthralled him and made him feel safe and happy.

"I like flowers though." The fawn said quickly, changing the subject when the silence stretched uncomfortably, "They all feel different and Papa keeps them here in the Solar for me, like a greenhouse. And, oh, here."

Erik watched Robért move about the room on his knees until his hands found another planter, he ran his hands about until he could find another blossom. Erik saw him wince and pull his hand back then push it forward again toward the dark red folds of another flower's petals,

"This . . . this is a rose. They have thorns so I know which one it is but they don't smell as nice as other flowers, but they feel very nice." Robért leaned forward and dipped his nose among the folded petals.

Erik quickly moved next to the boy, touching the flower, petals, thorns, leaves and indeed it felt so soft and smelled rather bland but it was a beautiful flower nonetheless. Erik put his hand down and sat back against the planter, staring at the fawn as he sat down too,

"Do you wish you could see?"

"Of course."

" . . . I wish you could see the colors." Erik whispered because in all honesty, he didn't want Robért to be able to see, he wished all people were blind and all they talked about were how things felt and sounded and not about how they looked and if they were ugly or pretty, just like the flowers . . .

"Me too." Robért murmured, pulling his knees up, "That's what I wish more than anything, to be able to see my flowers or the sky or the grass . . . but I can't and there's no sense being sad over what I can't have. At least that's what Papa told me when I used to cry about not being able to see. I don't cry anymore about that, but it doesn't mean I don't still wish."

Erik looked at the fawn and he felt something he didn't ever remember feeling before, he felt . . . something. His chest was tight and his mind was whirring with ideas and all he could think about was how he could possibly teach Robért about color.

**A/N: For those who are unaware, I am legally blind, I use a cane and everything. I cannot see beyond three feet in front of me and nothing on either side of my head and am almost totally blind in my left eye. So, I know what I'm talking about with Robért and as an artist myself, I know both sides of what's going on in Erik and Robért's heads. (I read a story of two children, one blind and one sighted, where the little sighted girl was trying to describe what a tree looked like to the little blind boy and that's where the flowers came from) ****I also know how it feels for a sighted person to stop and try to tell me how something looks or feels or moves, it's an experience that i treasure because . . . well imagine not knowing what a flower looks like or color.**** As for Erik referring to Robért as 'the fawn', Damien calls Robért 'little fawn' in the beginning and Erik just sort of stuck with it. Forgive the long A/N. RnR if you please.**


	3. Of Colors and Puzzles

**A/N: Don't you just love updates? Apparently FF made an update that means I can only upload Docs from Firefox, which is a pain since my Mac uses Safari bestest. Oh well. ANYWAY! We hurry on to the next chapter and if you couldn't tell, I A) really liked writing this fic and B) I'm actually trying to get something going for NaNoWriMo. I know, ambitious of me. RnR please!**

Erik went over what he'd gathered for the umpteenth time and nodded to himself, he'd lived here with Damien and the fawn for two weeks now. He had his own room with a door that would only lock from the inside if he wanted, his own clothes that fit perfectly, a bookcase for the books he squirreled away from the many rooms filled with them (he was already able to read quite better than the tutor thought he would) and more than anything, he had a mask.

Erik stopped and looked pointedly at the mirror above his dresser, it was beautiful. Thin and white and made of something called 'porcelain' that was smooth and polished, not rough or dirty like the burlap sack he'd had to wear for what seemed like eternity. No, he smiled at his reflection smugly, he had put the lightweight thing on his face and was immediately hidden from the world in plain sight and he had his brown-blonde hair slicked back flat to his head, he thought his reflection was jealous perhaps that he was the real Erik.

The masked boy shook his head suddenly and went back to the task at hand, he'd been preparing this for some time and he wanted to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. He nodded once more than hurried out of the room and down the hall where the fawn's room was and pushed the door open without knocking. Robért already probably knew he was coming from the way he'd practically run down the hall in his excitement.

Robért looked up from making something with wooden blocks, "Do you ever make noise when you move?"

"Not if I can help it," Erik only paused a moment to realize he hadn't indeed made any sound then grabbed the blind boy's hand and hauled him to his feet, "Come on, I have something for you."

Robért's attention immediately went to Erik at the prospect of a present, "What is it?"

"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise." Erik rolled his eyes, not caring that the gesture was lost on the fawn.

"Even if you told me, it would still surprise me." Robért grumbled, but allowed Erik to pull him back to Erik's room.

"Alright, um, here, sit here." Erik pushed Robért toward the chair he'd set in the middle of the room.

Robért did as he was told and folded his hands in his lap expectantly, "What is it?" He pressed.

Erik picked up the first object, a rock he'd found and put in the icebox until moments ago, "Alright, here."

Robért fumbled the rock when it was placed in his hand, yelping in surprise, "Ow! What is it?" He pulled his hands back and let the thing fall on the floor.

Erik smiled, "It's blue."

Robért blinked in confusion then his eyes widened and he reached down and scrabbled for the rock again, holding it gingerly in his hands, "Blue?"

"Mhm." Erik took the rock back from the fawn, even though the boy tried to hold onto it longer. Erik pulled another rock from under his pillow where he'd put it to keep it warm after he'd removed it from near the hearth, "This is red."

Robért held out his hands and gasped when the hot rock touched his skin but he didn't let go until Erik took it back.

Next Erik took a piece of cloth he'd found and snipped off the curtain in the library, "This is purple." It was a bit of velvet, thick and heavy and soft.

Robért ran the material through his fingers, closing his eyes and smiling, " . . . it's pretty."

Erik beamed when he realized his idea was working, he grabbed the piece of paper he'd taken from Damien's desk in the study, "This is white."

Robért opened his eyes and traded the cloth for the paper, running it over in his hands, "It feels flat."

"White is flat. Flat and plain." Erik murmured, subconsciously touching his mask before grabbing another object, "Here, this is brown."

The fawn grimaced when Erik took the paper and deposited a dirt clod in his hands, "It's dirt."

"Well, dirt is brown." Erik shrugged and watched Robért, "Is it working?"

"Is what working?" Robért looked toward Erik, holding the clod in one hand and ceased to pat it with his fingers.

"Do you . . . understand color now?" Erik bit his lip, holding the last object in his hand, but not too tightly.

Robért's mouth opened slightly and his eyes widened, "I- . . . you were . . . ?" He looked back down at his lap and snuffled, "You're teaching me colors?"

"Yes." Erik titled his head slightly.

" . . . thank you." Robért whispered.

Erik moved closer, brushing the dirt from the fawn's hands and put the last thing in its place, "This . . . this is yellow."

Robert's eyes widened when what he was holding squirmed and mewed, "Erik, what is it?"

"Yellow." Erik shrugged, touching the kitten's head lightly, "I need to put him back when we're done but he's Yellow."

Robért lifted the kitten up and rubbed his cheek against the soft fur, "Yellow . . . it's so soft and warm."

Erik nodded, taking the kitten again, "I'll go put Yellow back and then I'll return."

He was about to leave when the fawn grabbed his arm, Erik suppressed his instinct to push the hand back and waited. Robért stood up slowly then put his arms around Erik's waist tightly, causing Erik to stiffen in shock.

"Thank you, Erik, you're my best friend." The younger boy murmured, pressing his face into Erik's back.

Erik's mind reeled slightly as he felt warmth and he couldn't understand for a moment what he was expected to do then he slowly turned around and put his hand hesitantly on Robért's shoulders, mindful of the kitten in his other hand, and allowed the contact. And it felt . . . good.

* * *

"What is this one then?"

Erik stared at the flower for a moment then shrugged, "Pink."

"What's 'pink'?" Robért scrunched his nose slightly and touched the flower again.

"Red and white mixed together, so it's plain but warm." Erik said, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around his knees, they'd spent the entire afternoon doing this. Robért would ask what color a flower was and Erik would tell him, then for several minutes Robért would be silent and just run his fingers over the flower's petals as if painting them.

Erik smiled to himself and closed his eyes, he felt good again, he felt . . . happy. He only barely glanced up at the door when Damien came in, smiling at the two boys before sitting down on one of the lounges in the room, resting his elbows on his knees,

"And what are we up to now, boys?" He asked, nodding to them.

"Erik taught me about colors today so now I'm putting the flowers in color." Robért said, smiling widely at his father.

Damien blinked, "He 'taught you colors'? How?"

"Erik is very clever, Papa," Robért said firmly, "He found things to show my hands and I learned like that."

Damien smiled and shook his head, "Clever, eh? Is it true, Erik, are you clever?"

Erik smiled as well, feeling good and happy and comfortable, "Yes, I am."

"Perhaps you can tell me about this teaching method so I can better understand it? It may come into use in the future." Damien cocked his head to the side a bit.

"I suppose I could." Erik shrugged slightly then remembered that he'd cut the curtain in the library without asking and flushed a bit.

* * *

"And this was red." Erik explained, "Only it was quite warm when I used it."

Damien shook his head and put the velvet scrap down, "Erik, you are a true marvel, you know? So you came up with all of these on your own?"

"Yes, sir." Erik nodded.

Damien furrowed his brow and then looked at Erik, "Have you ever considered . . . painting?"

"No." Erik blinked, he wasn't sure what that was at all but found he did not like admitting when he was confused.

Damien nodded to himself and went back to staring at the rock, "Hmm . . . "

Erik tilted his head and moved closer, "Why?"

"No reason, just something I think would be beneficial to you." Damien looked out the window, "I shall consider it myself and then we shall see what we shall see, won't we?"

Erik was often confused by Damien's way of speaking to himself but not to himself but he nodded anyway as the man turned and walked out of the room again, brow furrowed in concentration.

* * *

Erik stared at the blank canvas and then looked at his new tutor, "You want me to what?"

The tutor stopped painting on her own canvas and moved to stand next to Erik, "Draw, paint, visualize something and then put it on the canvas."

"But, I can't just take an idea or object and put it on paper." Erik stared at her in confusion.

"Yes, you can." She smiled patiently, "Comte de la Roche has shown me some of your sketches and I think you could do it."

"But, those were only me being bored during class!" Erik crossed his arms in exasperation, "That wasn't me trying to capture anything on the paper."

"And yet you did anyway." She titled her head, "Erik, you have talent but it is buried underneath something and you won't know until you try. Just look around you and find something that you think you can recreate on the paper."

Erik blinked then looked back at the canvas and furrowed his brow further then nodded, glancing around the room, "Could it be . . . the clock? Or is that too ordinary?"

"Art is art, whether it be fantastical or everyday." She nodded, "If the clock is what you wish to render than by all means, make the clock."

Erik nodded and began to paint, disregarding the charcoal and pencils altogether.

* * *

"There's nothing more I can teach the boy."

Damien looked up to see Robért's tutor standing in the doorway of his study, "I'm sorry?"

"I can't teach him anything more, he has gone through every book I have, every assignment bores him, every book is immediately finished, I can't do anything more with him." The man shrugged dismissively, "His intellect is beyond even me."

Damien bit his tongue, he'd never once thought this man a genius in any capacity, "I didn't think that you had such a high opinion of Robért."

"Robért? No, not him, the other one." The man shook his head in amusement, smirking, "Erik; I can't teach him any more."

"Alright then, thank you, I suppose you shall only teach Robért as before." Damien watched the tutor nod and leave the room then sat back.

He had found that Erik was far smarter than given credit for; in the past five months he'd learned how to paint and draw and had his tutor in that lamenting her own work as it could not compare with 'a mere child's', he would be up late at night reading upwards of three heavy novels at once from Damien's own collection (some of which Damien found a little tedious himself) and his sketches of buildings and architecture were a marvel to behold indeed. The child had a grasp for numbers and words that made him seem older than he was but there was nothing wholly wrong with that but at the same time, what to do with him?

Erik would wholly refuse to associate with anyone beyond the house, he would staunchly dig his heels in whenever it was even suggested to go to an event and would excuse himself whenever there were guests at the house. Essentially the boy seemed glued to Robért's side, constantly nudging the smaller boy away from the stairs or objects and Damien was beginning to think his petit faon was purposefully bumping into things just to get a reaction from their Erik.

"And still." Damien smiled, shaking his head, seeing them both flourish like that, Erik putting adults to shame with his intellect and Robért finding ways of challenging not only Erik but himself. It was simply incredible to watch and now that Erik didn't look ready to bolt for the door at every turn, things felt like they would be just fine for them.

**A/N: Did you like the colors part? That is essentially the best way I can think to teach blind people about colors is through sensations, our fingers are very sensitive, reasons we can read Braille. Also, we're starting to see Erik's genius come to light in the little time jumps I do. RnR please!**


	4. Of Paint and Hearts

**A/N: Obsessed you say? Foolishness! So having fun and not having anything better to do have another chapter! RnR please, means a lot to me. C8**

Erik glared at the painting he was finished with. It wasn't that the subject matter made him upset or that the work was not satisfactory but he had discovered another complication with him and art not moments before.

"I want to share something with you." Erik said, grabbing the fawn's hand and led him into Erik's makeshift art studio that had once been an unused study.

Robért smiled and followed along behind Erik, "What is it?"

"I painted something for you." Erik pushed Robért in front of the canvas but then he began to understand.

The fawn put a hand on the dry canvas then looked at Erik, "There's nothing here."

"Yes there is, I-" Erik blinked, how could he explain it? He'd painted something he'd seen from between the bars of a cage, it was a swirl of colors and lights that merged into fantastical creatures with human faces and claws and his heart sank. There was no way to describe it in words, emotions, or even in colors!

Robért blinked sadly at Erik before trying a weak smile, "I'm sure it's fantastic."

Erik now stood alone glaring hatred at the painting, then he did something he hadn't done in a long time; Erik put a fist through the canvas then sat down and cried. He wanted to share paintings with the fawn, but how could he? There was nothing to feel on the flat canvas and how could he describe an emotion or thought? Erik didn't have the words and it angered him, he was supposed to be so intelligent! He made tutors tear their hair out in frustration at his questions and theories and grasp of a concept! His art tutor left in a depression because she could not keep up with his talent! He taught a blind boy about color!

So why was this answer eluding him?

Erik cried in frustration, pulling his mask off and burying his face into his knees, "IT'S NOT FAIR!" He shouted into the material of his trousers.

"Life isn't fair, but what in particular caused this?"

Erik leaped back in surprise when Damien was suddenly standing in front of the canvas, rubbing his chin-hairs and furrowing his brow in concern at the hole in the work. Erik snuffled and pushed his mask back on, trying to settle his breathing but the hiccups wouldn't go away,

"I-I tried to . . . ahem, to show R-Robért." Erik murmured.

"And he hit the painting?" Damien looked incredulously at Erik.

"No! No, I did. After he left." Erik explained quickly, aghast at the thought that Robért would ever be capable of such violence.

Damien moved to sit on the stool by the canvas, clasping his hands and leaning his elbows on his knees, "I see . . . well, and what about that brought such violence on this work of art?"

"Because I . . . I don't know how to tell him about my paintings!" Erik snapped in dismay, a fresh wave of anger and sadness slamming into him.

"No? Now that surprises me," Damien sat back a bit, "You being a clever, clever boy I would think you had already had plans as to how to share art. After all, you taught Robért about colors, I would think there would be an _obvious_ solution."

Erik was torn between wanting to shout at Damien to shut up and leave him be with his riddles and condescending tone but at the same time the man seemed to know something that Erik did not and if there was one thing that Erik found he could not abide by was someone knowing something he didn't.

"What then?" Erik asked, trying very hard to keep his voice level and to not say it through clenched teeth.

"Well, it's simple isn't it? Show him what you were painting." Damien shrugged.

"I tried that." Erik snapped.

"No, Erik, I mean paint something that you can then show Robért." Damien explained in his saint-like, patient way.

Erik blinked several times as it came together.

"Understandably, Robért will not appreciate everything you paint nor should you limit yourself to just painting things that he can. You need to paint what you feel and see, not what will please anyone else, for instance, Robért would not fathom what you painted here, of course before adding the element of your fist through it, because it is all emotion and colors and interpretation. And there is nothing wrong with that." Damien stood up and reached down to help Erik up, smoothing the boy's collar and putting some of his hair behind his ear, "I will say this though, it makes me infinitely happy to see you so distressed over Robért's happiness, not that I enjoy seeing you upset but you have a compassionate and loving nature, Erik and I am glad that you are here for him."

Erik bit his lip and looked down, he did not feel he deserved such praise, he was very violent and was relieved when Robért never told Damien about all the tricks and pranks he played on the boy, even recently when he hid on the fawn and didn't let him know where he was until that afternoon. It was great fun really and he played tricks on everyone so it wasn't just Robért that he picked on. But still . . .

"Thank you, sir." Erik murmured, staring at one of the black buttons on Damien's vest.

Damien smiled and pulled the boy into a hug, startling Erik at first but the boy hesitantly put his arms around the adult and relaxed, "Oh, Erik, you are an enigma, but you are _our_ enigma."

* * *

Erik sat in the Solar, the fawn was sulking somewhere because Damien denied him riding lessons, again.

"It makes sense to me." Erik muttered, he knew how to ride even if it was a little scary, but it was nice to sit on the horse and feel its muscles flexing and its chest expanding and compressing with air as it sped through an open field. Erik liked to take Robért with him when he rode sometimes, placing the smaller boy behind him so the fawn could hold onto his back and not disrupt Erik's posting as they practically flew over the grassy hills and forests that surrounded the property.

But Erik had other things to worry about beyond Robért wanting to ride horses, he had tried to find ways to share his paintings with the fawn but landscapes bored him and it was too difficult to try and mold his own work into something he could show Robért. He glanced at the flowers, he'd painted them a dozen times but never to his liking and besides, Robért already knew what they looked like, same with everything in and around the estate, no, Erik wanted to show the fawn new things! He wanted to paint exciting and wonderful things and then show Robért and have the younger boy understand and love it too! But how could he share art with him that was beyond words and even sight?

Quite the puzzler Erik had made for himself.

* * *

"It isn't funny."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't, stop laughing!"

"Don't be a spoilsport, it is so and you know it."

"Erik, stop it!"

"No, Fawn, make me."

Robért swiped his hand about his head as if beating at a cloud of gnats but missed the long piece of grass-stalk he'd plucked and was taunting the fawn with it. He was giggling to himself as he bobbed it about on Robért's ears, nose and neck causing the smaller boy to slap wildly at it but to no avail as Erik was faster and able to pull the new toy back and attack another bit of exposed skin.

"PAPA! ERIK'S BEING IMPOSSIBLE!" Robért squawked as the grass somehow went up his nose.

Erik scowled and crossed his arms, "Tattle-tale!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are t-"

"What is going on in here?" Damien stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrow cocked at a disapproving slant.

"Erik won't stop teasing me!" Robért whined, hugging the stuffed horse he'd been playing with up to that point.

"I was just having a bit of fun!" Erik defended, glaring at the fawn, how could he be such a reliable accomplice one moment then a complete baby the next?

"Erik! Stop teasing your brother, I-"

Damien stopped himself and all three were quiet, Erik's mouth dropped open slightly and he stopped hiding the grass-stalk behind his back for a moment, completely forgetting that he was trying to charm his way out of getting sent to his room. The fawn blinked then smiled very big and ran forward (somehow knowing where Damien was, thankfully) and wrapping his arms around his father's waist,

"Oh, Papa, does this mean Erik's staying forever?" He smiled hugely and was bouncing on his heels a bit.

Damien swallowed quickly and looked at the fawn then back at Erik, "That is up to Erik."

"But you called me his brother! That means we have to keep him!" Robért pointed out.

Erik blinked between the two, certainly he'd stopped planning means of escape some time ago, perhaps even after the first few days he'd made the decision to stay but . . . but to be a part of this family? His heart constricted and he wanted to yell that yes, yes, yes he wanted to stay forever and never leave or be turned out, to be a big brother and a son again and that this was all he ever wanted and that he loved them more than he could remember ever loving anything in his life and he felt like he was floating off the floor but he couldn't seem to get the right words out and he felt eyes on him, waiting for him to say something but he was being put on the spot and-

"Please say you will."

Erik looked back up at the fawn, Robért who was standing there, his lip trembling at the silence that had followed and wringing his hands miserably at the possibility that Erik didn't want to stay. And Damien looked no less pleading or anxious and Erik had never felt more wanted in all his life.

"I would like to." He said softly, terrified of breaking the tenuous bonds they had with too loud a voice.

And that was that.

* * *

Erik stood staring at the bookshelf, he wanted to read something to the fawn but that little idiot liked nonsensical stories about looking glasses and knights and dragons. Erik could not comprehend such silliness and it irked him. He pulled down a book by Dickens and turned go back to Robért's room where the boy was sitting up in his bed expectantly.

"Here, I like this one so you will too." Erik sat on the edge of the bed, opening to the first page.

"It's Dickens, isn't it?" the fawn groaned and flopped back on the pillows, "Erik, that's so _boring_."

"It is not!" Erik argued, "Perhaps I should just go to bed then since you find me boring?"

"You're not boring, the stupid book is."

"How did you know it was Dickens, incidentally?" Erik raised an eyebrow.

"I can smell the boring on it." Robért muttered, crossing his arms, "Lewis."

"Fawn, I've read that one cover to cover and it is far more ridiculous than this."

"Lewis, Erik."

"Fawn."

"No."

"Please, not again."

"I won't go to sleep until you read it to me." Robért sat up, glaring at Erik.

"Yes you will," Erik countered, the fawn had already yawned several times and his eyes were heavy.

"No I won't." Robért insisted, "Or better yet, I'll make sure you can't! I'll come into your room and keep you awake all night by bouncing on your bed!"

"You wouldn't." Erik glared at the fawn, he was impossible!

"I would so!"

"Spoilt brat!"

"Know-it-all!"

They were at an impasse then. Erik's glare met Robért's and they sat there with arms crossed until Erik huffed loudly,

"What if . . . what if I sang to you instead?"

The fawn blinked his dull eyes and dropped his arms, tilting his head back a bit, "I didn't know you could sing."

Erik shrugged, "A little."

Robért seemed to consider his options then sighed heavily and nodded, "Alright but it had better be a pretty song."

Erik nodded and quickly started to form the words in his head to go along with the music he always heard when the fawn patted the bed next to him, "What?"

"I'll hear you better if you're closer." Robért shrugged as if that was obvious.

Erik sighed and kicked off his slippers, scooting up to be next to the fawn and then he started his song. It was really a bunch of nonsense about fawns and meadows and birds but it must have been good because soon Robért was curling up against Erik's side and smiling softly,

"I can see it." He whispered when Erik finished, the fawn reached over and took Erik's hand in his, "I can see the meadow . . . and the fawns . . . " He yawned hugely and was soon fast asleep.

Erik had heard all he needed to, he extricated himself from the sleeping boy and went to Father's study, knocking lightly on the door before slipping in.

Damien looked up from his glasses of brandy by the fireplace, he smiled at Erik and gestured for the boy to come more into the room,

"Glad you two worked out your squabbling, I'm rather ensconced here at the fire and was loathe to have to break up another quarrel." He chuckled and sipped his drink, looking over the rim at Erik, "What is it you have to say then, my fine fellow."

Erik fidgeted in his excitement, "I found what I can do."

"Do? In what context, mon petit renard?" Damien smiled, sitting up more in his chair.

Erik blinked at the new petname but he certainly was crafty and clever like a fox . . .

"You said to find a way to show Robért my art and I found it." Erik smiled, moving closer, "Music."

Damien chuckled, "And there you have it, I knew you would find the answer, you are a clever, clever boy, Erik." He reached over and put a hand on Erik's head, gently smoothing the unruly locks.

Erik smiled wider, "Thank you . . . Father."

Damien nodded, "Go on then, off to bed, renard."

Erik nodded and hurried back to his room, eager to beginning with his plans.

**A/N: and thus things happen! Really though Erik's more comfortable with the de la Roche's so he does tend to get a little out of hand with his practical jokes (anyone notice that's an oxymoron?) and such but now, music! Let us see how the Fawn and the Fox achieve a middle ground with art! RnR please!**


	5. Of Dancing and Mothers

**A/N: Okay a few things I need to get off my chest: Firstly if you are a guest or anon, please give yourself a name or something so I can keep track of who says what, it helps keep my soupy-brain in some semblance of order as well for commentary and conversation between us. Secondly, not that anyone has done this yet but PLEASE do not put corrections or plot suggestions in the reviews, I am more than happy to have dialogue over my fics in PMs and I do have someone who reads my work then PMs me the corrections so I can go back at my leisure and make corrections, seeing a wall of reviews with nothing but corrections or whatever makes me feel that my work looks sloppy and I get anxious about that so for my own sanity, if you wish to talk over things that could/should be changed, PM me and I'm more than happy to talk extensively more than I should in an A/N. Thirdly, Many have speculated as to Robért's mother, all shall be revealed but please do not hate me for it. And lastly, THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT! This really has made it more enjoyable to write things with people around who appreciate it and I'm more than grateful. Okay, long A/N, sorry about that, RnR please.**

Erik stared down at the keys, he didn't want to play the music he'd been given, he wanted to make his own music. He didn't want to go through all the elementary level music sheets with single notes and stupid limericks, he wanted to play complex, engaging music, music that would help Robért understand art and feelings and things that roiled around in Erik's mind and heart. But, as Erik was reminded so many times, he was just a child and this was how a child learned music. He'd staunchly refused the first ten tutors.

It had been nearly three years since he discovered music as an option and he was no closer to discovering his . . . what was it? Magnum Opus. He wanted to write something so great that it would paint the whole world for the fawn, he wanted to metaphorically open his eyes to everything that Erik could see and how he felt the world should look. He wanted . . . so much more than any were willing to allow.

So here he sat with no tutor, no sheets of music with his hands on the keys and he played. Sometimes he would falter on a wrong note but then quickly amend the mistake and carry on, confidence building as he played, aware of the eyes on his back.

"Fawn." Erik turned his head slightly, "You can sit with me."

Robért moved closer, sitting with Erik on the bench and smiling, "Alright, Fox."

Erik smiled and continued on his path to teach himself music. They were three years older, three years taller, three years stronger, and three years smarter and yet it was like no time had passed between them at all, they were still the children they had been when they first met even though Erik was almost fifteen and Robért was twelve.

"I like it when you play." Robért murmured, closing his eyes and putting his dark head on Erik's shoulder.

Erik stopped to turn his head toward his brother, "Good, because I like to play."

"Wouldn't it be terrible if I hated music?" the fawn chuckled, standing and moving to the center of the large library where the piano was.

Erik continued to play, watching Robért as he danced with an imaginary partner, moving slowly through the steps they'd both been forced to learn ("Gentlemen dance." Father had insisted. "Well we are a Fox and a Fawn and those don't go to parties, so we do not dance." Erik had said smugly. . . sadly the lesson still happened).

It was true though, Erik never went anywhere that wasn't on the grounds, he didn't go to parties and every time there was one at the house, he would excuse himself to the safety of upstairs. And if Erik didn't want to be present, the fawn would usually follow him or at least put up enough of a fuss that Father would have no choice but to let him go. Erik could tell that his antisocial tendencies worried the Comte something fierce but he refused to be broken of them.

He stood and moved to join the younger boy on the floor, "You're doing it wrong."

Robért pouted and glared as his hands were put into the woman's position on Erik, "Why do you get to lead?"

"Because I can see where we're going, that's why. And I'm taller." Erik shrugged and began to lead them through the first steps.

"Hmph! Erik, that's not fair, you _always_ lead! I can dance just as well as you!" Robért glared at Erik but allowed himself to be moved about the room without further complaint.

When they finally both grew tired of the game they retreated to the Solar together, Erik had things on his mind and it was best to say them to the fawn instead of storing them in his head; things had a tendency to get cluttered up there if he didn't keep-house well enough.

"Robért?"

"Yes, Erik?"

"Where is your mother?" Erik had pondered this for some time and since no one talked about it, he had to ask, "I've never seen her but you have portraits of her with you and Father."

The fawn fidgeted and plucked a wilting violet from a planter, pressing it into the dirt of the planter, " . . . I don't know."

"It has been three whole years since I started living here, why have I never seen her?" Erik insisted, he was dying to know where the Mother figure of the family was and would not let anything stop him now.

"_I don't know_." Robért snapped, standing and moving to the door, "Ask Papa."

Erik blinked in surprise and stood to follow the fawn but stopped himself, Robért was clearly upset about talking about the Mother so Erik chose to take his advice and ask Father instead.

* * *

Damien looked up to find Erik standing in the doorway of the parlor where he was reading the paper,

"Yes, Erik?"

"Where is Robért's mother?" Erik asked, he did not know the woman so saying 'where is Mother' felt intrusive.

Damien sighed and put the paper back, "Do you know what it means to be ill, Erik?"

"You mean sick? Yes." Erik moved into the room and sat on the ottoman in front of Father.

"Do you understand if someone was mentally ill?" Damien clasped his hands and stared at his fingernails.

" . . . Not really." Erik furrowed his brow.

"It means that someone is sick in the head, that they have an illness that medicine or doctors can't fix because it's in their mind. Robért's mother is at a sanatorium for the mentally ill. I had her put away when faon was very young, no more than an infant, because she was a danger to him and herself."

"You put her away?" Erik blinked, the idea was strange, he'd been taken from his mother by force by the Gypsies so he understood being taken, but to willfully put someone somewhere and then never talk of them or see them again?

"I had to. She . . . she started acting strangely, she wouldn't eat, or sleep for that matter, and she began throwing fits of rage without provocation . . . she threw Robért to the ground once while simply holding him while he was sleeping," Damien rubbed his knees sadly, "The doctors said giving birth to le faon was what put the strain on her mind, but I'm not sure."

"Does Robért ever visit her?" Erik asked, tilting his head back a bit, he felt oddly uncomfortable and cold at that moment, he couldn't imagine this scenario, it was too painful as flashbacks of his own mother popped in, remembering reaching for her, begging her to not let go as he was stuffed into a sack and hauled away. He could only shudder at the reverse, pulling a grown woman away from her child and husband.

"No." Damien said firmly, "In fact I believe it best he not remember he has a mother."

Erik stood up suddenly, "Just as well my mother should not remember she had a son?"

Damien blinked and stood up as well, "Erik, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's perfectly alright," Erik bit out, backing up a step, "After all, you put your _wife_ away for a mental condition, why shouldn't my own _mother _sell me because of my face?"

"Now just a minute-" Damien tried to close the gap between them but Erik retreated further.

"NO! Forgive me, _Father_, but your logic is unsound and your argument invalid! Perhaps I should be put away too? After all, I'm having a 'fit of rage' right now and heaven knows my face is more than enough reason to _cage me_!" He didn't notice he was shouting at that point but something in him broke, something shattered and threw jagged pieces all over inside him that dug in deeply with every breath.

"Erik!" Damien reached out and tried to grab the boy's shoulders but they eluded him once more when he pulled back even further, "Erik, please, try to understand-"

"Understand what?" Erik shouted, now fully aware that he was doing so, "Understand that you willfully tore a mother from her child because you couldn't deal with her and yet you leave reminders all over the house that there should indeed _be _a Mother? Certainly you've fooled _no one_ into forgetting her!"

Damien stopped trying to get closer and just stared at Erik, allowing the young man to get whatever weight off his chest before it crushed him.

"You freed me from a cage but won't free your _wife_? Why? I don't- "Erik hugged himself, tears welling up as the emotion fluctuated from rage to sorrow, " . . . I don't understand."

Damien waited a moment more as Erik slid to sit on the floor, hugging himself as if trying to keep himself in one piece, his eyes still glaring daggers at Damien as the man moved to sit next to him, staring sadly at the opposite wall,

" . . . Erik, I didn't want to let her go," He said gently, swallowing thickly and closing his eyes, "I tried for three years to help her, to understand why the timid, sweet woman I'd married and been happy with for so long suddenly turned into something that frightened me. I tried everything that was recommended to me but nothing worked or she would just get worse. When she started taking Robért from his crib and harming him, I knew it was too late, I had to get her away from him, I couldn't risk my child over her . . . I never said it was easy for me to put her away, I loved her, Erik, she _was _my wife and the mother of my son and nothing pained me more than for her to be taken from my home. You're right, I do leave reminders up of her; portraits and her clothes are in the bureau and such, but those aren't for le faon, they're for me. He was young enough to forget her, to not question where she went or why she isn't here, but I was not. I loved her and she loved me, for a time, and as much as I wish I had known what to do, I didn't. So I leave the pictures to remind me that what I did was the right and wrong decision," He looked over at Erik, his eyes watery and pleading, so Erik scooted closer and cautiously put his head on Damien's arm, "Perhaps," Damien continued, sliding his arm around Erik's shoulders, "that was why I did liberate you, because I saw a problem I could fix or at least help with, my wife I could not save, but I could do that for you."

Erik bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, "I . . . I'm sorry I shouted . . . I just-"

"You got upset and wanted answers, Erik, I understand completely though I would rather you not raise your voice in here, I think you nearly shattered the windows." Damien chuckled, squeezing Erik's shoulder affectionately.

Erik flushed a bit and nodded, "I- . . . " He shook his head and tried to not utter what he was feeling at that very moment but couldn't help it as fresh tears rolled down the unmasked portion of his face, "I want my mother . . . "

Damien blinked and carefully removed Erik's mask, setting it aside and then pulled the young man closer, " . . . I know, Erik . . . I know." He sighed heavily and let the boy cry, there was no sense in broaching that topic now and Damien understood better as to why Erik had his outburst to begin with.

* * *

"But I don't want to _go_!" Erik and Robért whined at the same time.

Damien crossed his arms, "You are going and that is final! You are not going to live your lives cooped up in this house now go and get changed!"

"I refuse." Erik matched Damien's stance.

"I don't like parties." The fawn supplied.

"And I don't like boys that don't do what they're told, go get changed. We will be leaving in no less than a quarter hour, if you two are not dressed and back here by then, there will be hell to pay. Am I understood?" Damien pointed to the stairs, "And Robért, stop pouting, you're too old for that and it won't work."

Erik and Robért both traipsed resignedly up the stairs with much moaning and lamenting their fate. Damien had made the declaration at supper that evening that they would all be attending an opera and then the party that followed at a wealthy so-and-so's place of residence in town.

"I don't see why _I_ have to go." Erik muttered under his breath.

"Well, you're not making me go alone." The fawn said with wide eyes.

"No, but I still don't want to go." Erik shrugged out of his clothes and started to pull on his barely-used tuxedo.

Robért climbed onto Erik's bed and sat cross-legged, "Well you are a de la Roche and the eldest so I suppose you do actually have to go."

Erik paused for a moment, he had indeed been officially adopted into the family a while ago but he didn't really _feel_ any different with a surname, although, he had had a wig made with darker hair so that he looked more like the rest of the family, that and his hair had gotten a bit thinner,

"So? I'm still just Erik." He shrugged and did his bowtie up then turned to the fawn, "Come on, let's get you dressed."

Robért bounced off the bed and followed Erik into his own room, "What are operas anyway? I've never been to one."

"I don't know, I haven't either." Erik helped the fawn into his clothes and then they both went downstairs where Damien was standing with his watch out,

"Ah, still with five minutes to spare, let's go." He gestured to the door, following behind the boys so that neither could bolt for the house.

* * *

The whole way to the opera house the fawn and Erik bemoaned their fate and gazed longingly out the window. Damien rolled his eyes,

"I do not believe you are correct in your thinking, renard, you will not indeed die from being 'forced to be social' for once."

Erik huffed and sat back, crossing his long legs, "Well, better safe than sorry, no? It isn't too late to go back home."

"Erik, people are beginning to think that I keep you boys locked in the cellars or tied up in the backyard, you will make an appearance before a federal investigation is made on me." Damien rested both hands on the pommel of his cane, "Faon, stop pouting."

"But what if Erik's right? What if we do die?" Robért threw an arm across his forehead dramatically, "Then what? You'll be without two sons! And then all the inheritance will go to cousin Matilda and her wretched cats!"

Damien gave the fawn a withering look but it had no effect since he couldn't see it, "Matilda has _one_ cat and two dogs, Robért and you know that. Erik, do not touch the door-handle again. Honestly you two are worse than a pair of apes!"

* * *

If leaving the house had caused a dilemma, leaving the carriage was no better.

"Erik, I am going to count to three and if you are not out here in that time, you will be confined to your room for a week." Damien threatened.

"Which is where I wanted to be in the first place." Erik muttered, glaring out the opposite window.

"Without any books or paper or anything." Damien held up a finger, "One."

Erik's eyes widened, "You wouldn't."

"Don't test me. Two."

Erik scrambled out of the carriage and arranged himself next to the fawn, "Happy?"

"I'm practically leaping with joy." Damien gestured to the throngs of people heading toward the theatre as well, "Shall we?"

Erik and Robért clung to each other the entire walk up the stairs, through the lobby and too there private box No. 5. Erik scooted as far back as possible in his seat as he caught people staring,

"They're _looking _at me, this is why I never want to go anywhere! So rude."

"Are they staring at me?" The fawn asked anxiously.

"No, Fawn, it is alright, you're safe." Erik said automatically, putting a hand on Robért's and squeezing it reassuringly.

"Then why are they staring at all?" Robért asked, shifting his chair closer to Erik's.

"Hush, boys, the curtain is going up." Damien admonished in a whisper, gesturing to the stage where the curtain was indeed rising.

Erik's eyes suddenly were riveted to the stage as the orchestra began to play the first act and the singers and dancers came on stage and he found that he could not tear his attention away for a moment before the fawn nudged him lightly, hissing in his ear,

"What's happening?"

"The dancers are on and-"

"I thought so." Robért nodded to himself then sat back with his eyes closed.

Erik blinked and looked at the fawn in confusion, "What do you mean," He hissed, "'You thought so'?"

"I don't know, it just sounds like dancing music so I figured the chorus girls were out dancing . . . pirouette." He said suddenly and sure enough the main dancer, a young man, did indeed do the maneuver.

Erik's jaw dropped, "How did you-?"

"I don't know, I can almost see it I suppose in the music. Like knowing when to trade partners in a quadrille by listening to the music carefully, that seemed like the right moment for that move." Robért shrugged and didn't explain further.

Erik stared at the younger boy and shook his head, it somehow made perfect sense . . . and so for the rest of the evening, Erik did not have to relate the entire opera to the fawn and his own ideas began to whirr because an opera wasn't just music or just dancing or just acting, it was all three in one and the story was obvious as were the motions of the actors because they were emphasized by the music and that was his answer.

He would write an opera for the fawn. An opera that would show him the whole world and even perhaps an entirely new one without having to try and interpret it. Erik was elated with his new scheme but that didn't mean he was completely lost in it, his eyes drifted up to the catwalks and all the ropes and things that were just above the stage, his mind began to whir and ideas and images came into his head and he wanted to go up there and see what went into this opera house and all the things that were the inner-workings.

Erik was so caught up in his own thoughts and ideas that he did not know it was the end of the opera until Father nudged him to stand and applaud with everyone else.

**A/N: And there you go. The fawn's mother is indeed in an asylum, I believe her illness did not manifest itself fully until after Robért was born. Erik is understandably upset by this revelation because well, he doesn't like the idea of a family being forced apart. And also, Erik learns the value of the opera! RnR please.**


	6. Of Pranks and Playmates

**A/N: Wow a whole day without an update? Nearly two? I'm a cruel mistress, aren't I? Honestly this one needed a write, rewrite and completely changed the way I was going with this one at the last second when reasons happened. SO ANYWAY! Wow, 22 reviews already, huh? I'm thoroughly humbled my dears, I really am in awe that this story could receive such praise! Thank you! RnR please! WARNING: This chapter may induce feels that will cause a debilitating urge to kill/hug the author, results may vary please comment and check with your doctor before attempting either action.**

Erik's eyes wandered upward as the family made their way out of the box and toward the entrance, he was curious and at that moment, it was insatiable. He was just pulling away to go investigate the flies and catwalks when he felt a tug on his sleeve, Erik looked down at the fawn,

"I'll only be gone a moment." He assured, trying to pry the younger boy's hand off.

"You _always _say that and then you disappear for hours. Stay with us." Robért insisted, tugging Erik back.

"I said a moment, now let go." Erik hissed, "And don't you dare tell Father or I'll play a nasty prank on you."

Robért's eyes widened, "You wouldn't!"

"I _would_. Do you remember the mice in the dresser?" Erik leaned closer, "Chewed through all your socks, if memory serves."

The fawn's lip quivered, "Oh, you _are _wicked, Erik! Fine, go then and I hope you fall and break your leg!"

He let Erik go and turned to grip Damien's sleeve and pout. Erik sighed and turned back to his goal, stealing into the shadows with ease. He hated to do that to Robért, but otherwise the small boy would insist on either coming with him or telling Father. The former was a bad idea because the fawn could easily be hurt if he was left unattended and the latter was worse because there was no way that Father would allow Erik to run about.

Erik made his way backstage and found the spiral stairs that lead up to the catwalks, he quickly climbed them and began to run about, scurrying up ropes and pulley-systems and seeing what different levers and wheels did.

He was having a grand old time, especially when every once in a while a stagehand would walk by and Erik would have to duck out of the way either by leaping to another scaffold or shimmying up a rope to hide. It was great fun and he could tell the men and women that were out and about kept catching glances of him and looking over their shoulders, whispering about 'phantoms' and 'ghosts' and rubbing lucky charms or necklaces with suspicious eyes.

Erik was about to escalate the fun by maybe dropping something in someone's path or perhaps loosing one of the sandbags when suddenly he heard shouting,

"What do you mean, _you don't know?_"

"I'm sorry, sir, but no one saw him."

Erik grimaced and shifted in his hiding spot, crawling on his belly to peer down at the stage where Father and the fawn were standing with several men who were well-dressed. Father's face was a rather dark red color as his temper increased and Robért kept snuffling and wiping at his eyes.

"He's a boy of fifteen, has dark hair and a _mask,_ for pity's sake, you can't miss him!" Father raged, pointing accusingly at the men, "Now, find him and if he isn't found in no less time, there will be hell to pay."

Erik's eyes widened, he hadn't realized how long he'd gone missing and was about to make his presence known (by which he meant to climb down backstage, dust himself off, and saunter on stage like he hadn't been up to no good) but then the fawn tugged on Damien's sleeve and murmured something.

"What? He went _where_?"

Robért pouted miserably and sheepishly pointed upward, keeping his head down.

Erik groaned softly in dismay as all four men in company looked up at where Erik was hiding. He tried to duck back in the shadows but, too late.

"Erik! Get down here, now!"

Erik cringed and peeped his head over the edge, smiling widely in an attempt to be charming, "Hullo, Father."

"Get down here, young man before I come and get you myself!" Damien snapped, pointing at the floor next to him and he was _livid_.

Erik sighed and stood up, leaping (amid many gasps from on-lookers) to another scaffold then shimmying down a rope a few feet off the floor, he hopped down and stood trying to brush dust off his coat and tails.

Damien stalked up to him, grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to apologize to the managers then frog-march Erik out of the opera house with the fawn in tow.

* * *

"Did you even _think _about what you were doing?" Father demanded, his hands clenched into fists on his knees as the carriage trundled along.

Erik opened his mouth to answer that, yes, he had indeed thought it through quite _thoroughly_ and had decided that it was what he wanted to do, but that answer might not have been the right one judging by the vein in Father's temple bulging like that. Erik tried to find something else to say instead, "I-"

"You could have fallen or slipped and then what? From that height you could have broken your neck! Or something just as bad!" Damien spoke right over Erik, his anger melding with worry.

"But I didn't fall." Erik pointed out.

"You _could _have, Erik! And worse, you didn't tell anyone where you were going to be or what you were doing! I had absolutely _no_ idea what to do! My God for all your genius you are such a little fool sometimes!" Damien rubbed his eyebrows and squeezed his eyes shut.

Robért had not spoken the entire ride thus far, probably sensing Erik's anger that he'd tattled on him yet again.

"I was fine." Erik insisted, hoping to smooth things over, he didn't like it when Father was angry with him, "I knew what I was doing, I swear, I just wanted to have a look."

Damien looked up at Erik, his blue eyes dark in the shadow of the carriage, "You were missing for _three hours_, Erik. Three! In which time I had no idea where you were, I didn't know if you were safe or if you were possibly hurt or kidnapped, anything could have happened! The theater is vast and there are multiple places that someone could hide you away! What could we have done if that was the case? It could have taken _days_ to search everywhere and by then you could have been stolen away!"

Erik flinched back, the idea had never occurred to him that Father might have worried to that extent and Erik heard the fawn crying softly next to him and suddenly the reality of the situation hit him and he felt crushed, he'd worried his family with his mischief and he'd caused trouble for them and not the good kind of trouble like pranks and tricks but . . . he'd brought on feelings of _fear_ in them . . .

"I-"

Damien held up a hand tiredly and turned to the window, "Not now, Erik, alright? Not now."

Erik bit down on his tongue and huddled miserably on his seat the rest of the way home.

* * *

Damien led the boys into the manor and they all silently slipped out of their cloaks and shoes and trudged up the stairs to their separate rooms.

Erik changed out of his dusty, grimy tuxedo (knowing that it was ruined and he'd have to stand for another fitting . . . a rather _fitting _punishment really. Ha ha . . . ) and slid into his night clothes. He sat on the edge of the bed and bit his lip miserably before standing and slowly shuffling to the end of the hall, knocking hesitantly on the door and waiting anxiously.

"Come in."

Erik swallowed and nudged the door open, sliding in and standing nervously in the doorway. Damien was sitting by the fire that was unlit at the far end of the Master bedroom, the gigantic four-poster bed with the thick green curtains untouched and he was still wearing his tuxedo without the jacket and the tie was undone and hanging around his neck. Erik didn't know what exactly he should do or say and ended up just standing there until Father acknowledged his presence with a slight turn of his head,

"Oh, Erik, what am I going to do with you? Hmm? You're giving me gray hair." Damien shook his head and stared at Erik with tired eyes.

"It . . . It isn't that noticeable." Erik tried lamely, staring down at the space in front of him, never before noticing how intricately the pattern of the rug portrayed a stag running through the forest.

Damien chuckled and shook his head, gesturing for Erik to come and sit on the ottoman, "I am not angry at you, Erik. I was worried beyond reason as to what might have happened to you, my dear renard. You are very precious to me and to Robért, do you understand my concern?"

Erik sat down and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm sorry."

"I know you are, dear one, but you need to remember to think before you do such foolish things, because as a father it is my job to assume the worst and protect my family with a vengeance. You know I would gladly have torn that opera house apart looking for you and I was quite near to strangling the manager because he could not locate you for me."

Erik smirked slightly, remembering how ashen-faced said manager had looked when confronted by the incredibly tall and broad Comte Damien de la Roche, "Yes, Father."

"And furthermore, I want you to be careful, running about and leaping from board to board that far off the ground would be considered 'reckless' in many accepted circles of society, my good fellow," Damien admonished gently then chuckled, "Incidentally, what _were _you doing up there?"

Erik smiled a little more when he realized that he was no longer going to end up sleeping in the cellar or something, "Just the usual."

"Causing mayhem and terror? Wherever you got your wicked streak is far from my understanding, heavens above know you didn't get it from me." Damien chuckled and shook his head.

Erik was about to elaborate on some of his more inventive pranks when they both heard snuffling and shuffling from the doorway. They turned to see the fawn was standing there, his whole body trembling and he also was still wearing most of his tuxedo with the bowtie knotted awkwardly around his neck and only half the buttons undone on the shirt.

Robért moved slowly closer toward them, his large pale eyes watery and his lip quivered something fierce until he found where Erik was then threw himself onto the older boy's back, sobbing miserably,

"I-I'm sorry I told on you, E-E-Erik but-but P-P-Papa said you could b-b-be hurt and that would h-h-have been worse than m-m-mice in my socks!"

Damien raised an eyebrow at the mice bit but didn't ask for more information as Erik pulled the fawn around to his front and hugged him tightly,

"There now, Fawn, it's alright, see? I'm fine and Father isn't so mad as he was before. Don't cry, Robért, I'm not angry." Erik soothed Robért, rubbing his back and grimacing over the dark head at Damien, once more realizing the severity of his 'fun'.

There was much calming and comforting before everyone was laughing again and Robért was yawning hugely and rubbing his eyes.

"Well my good gentlemen, I believe it is past the time for young creatures to be in their burrows." He stood up and stretched, "Out with you! Be gone with you troublemakers! My hair is getting grayer by the second and soon I shall be an old, shriveled man before my time!"

Erik and the fawn ran out of the room giggling and whooping to their own rooms.

* * *

Erik was just about to blow out the candle and go to sleep when the door opened again and Robért moved into the room in his night clothes, shuffling to the bed and climbing onto it. Erik frowned in confusion,

"What are you doing, Fawn?"

"You owe me, Fox." Robért muttered, crawling under the blankets and settling against Erik's chest.

"Where did you get an idea like that? You tattled on me and got me in trouble." Erik raised an eyebrow but blew the candle out and settled down next to his brother.

"Maybe so, but I didn't say anything for a long time which prevented us from having to go to the after-party. So, in reality, you owe me a favor since I made sure we would be exempt." The fawn yawned and breathed out slowly, "I didn't realize it at the time but it got a very desirable result, so there."

Erik blinked in surprise then chuckled, "My, how clever you are, dear brother. So, I owe you, eh? And what is it that you would like?"

"No more tricks."

"Alright."

"Or pranks, at least on me."

"I suppose I could do that."

"Now, I require a boon from you."

"You just asked for two things, I think you've used up your 'favor'." Erik muttered but didn't stop him.

"Technically tricks or pranks is one thing but . . . write me an opera."

Erik blinked in surprise and rolled over so they were facing each other, "What?"

"I know you were thinking to do it anyway, but I want you to know that I know." Robért yawned again and sighed, "I like the idea, very much."

Erik smiled and slid an arm around the fawn, "Alright, then I'll do it, for you."

There was a silence then Erik scooted closer and hugged Robért to his chest, closed his eyes, and began to sing softly to him until he felt the smaller boy relax and soon was fast asleep.

* * *

"Why?!" Erik demanded loudly, throwing his head back in dismay.

"Because, you wretched boy, you need to be among other young men your own age!" Damien snapped, his hands planted on the desk, "After last night, it would seem you don't have enough outlets for your energy and since tutoring you seems to get you nowhere besides a bigger ego and more ideas than I think any mortal should have, you are going to start associating with other adolescents."

"I have Robért, I don't need others!" Erik argued, his temper rearing up at the idea of being forced into such situations.

"He'll be going as well considering the kind of influence you've had on him. I will not ask what mice were doing in his sock drawer, but I do know of the spiders in the maids' quarters-"

"They deserved it!"

"Or the dead rat in the butler's shoe-"

"It was alive when I put it there!"

"Or the bucket of I-don't-even-want-to-know-what that tipped onto the stable boy's head when he opened the barn door." Damien said over Erik's protests.

"But, Father, I-"

"You're getting out of hand," Damien sat down, holding up a piece of paper, "I have here a note from the manager of the Opera de Populaire that arrived just now, he writes as such:

'Dear M. Comte de la Roche,

It would seem your son got many of the employees to thinking that there

is a ghost inhabiting the catwalks, as such many have placed their resignations

and a few have refused to go back up until the place has been sanctified by

a priest, clearly they did not see when he extracted himself from the ropes

himself. In result of these events I would ask that you keep an eye on him

better if you intend to attend more operas, as I cannot afford to replace

that number of employees at such short notice.',

Damien put the letter down and looked at Erik, "I have _never_ been insulted so outright as this. You got off easily enough with just being reprimanded by myself and not having him press charges of some sort. This isn't just a prank anymore, Erik, this is you encroaching on a _business_ and causing losses! This is serious and so you must be punished. While I would not categorize your making associates of your peers a punishment as such, I know you do and so I am going to either make or break you with this sentence."

Erik had stared at his hands the entire time, angrily contemplating means of revenge as Damien moved around the desk to stand in front of him.

"Erik, I don't want you to live your life trapping yourself in this house thinking there isn't a damn thing out there for you," A hand fell on Erik's shoulder but he shrugged it off, Damien sighed heavily, "I know you're upset but for pity's sake, you need to get out! There's a whole world that you're determined to show le faon but utterly refuse to see it yourself!"

"I _have _seen the world!" Erik snapped, standing up and glaring heatedly at Damien, "I have traveled all over it and it is all the same! I don't want to show Robért that world, I want him to see _my _world!"

"Erik, the part of the world you saw wasn't all there is! There are genuinely _good _people in the world if you'll only give it half a chance!" Damien moved to the desk again.

"I don't want to! I don't want to see the world! I don't want to go anywhere or meet anyone!" Erik shouted.

"And why not?" Damien crossed his arms, he knew that Erik would give him his answers if provoked to enough anger, sometimes that was the only way to get the young man to talk.

"Because no one _sees _me!" Erik shouted, grabbing the nearest object off the desk and throwing it, "They don't hear me! They only see what they think I am! No one understands what this is like! You don't even understand! Look at you! Look at Robért! You're both good-looking and perfectly acceptable! I just . . . " Erik looked at the remnants of what he'd thrown, a glass bauble cut into the shape of a horse, shattered on the floor, " . . . I feel . . . I feel . . . like I'm crying out to the world, singing to it but no one will listen . . . no one will listen to me . . . like I'm alone . . . " Erik sat back down, defeated and lost in his own thoughts.

Father didn't do anything to save the glass horse, didn't even blink when it crashed onto the floor spreading shards all over the place, and now Erik was sitting with his shoulders shaking as he covered his face,

" . . . Erik, renard," Father sat down next to Erik, gently moving a hand over the boy's back, "It isn't as black and hopeless as you think, but it has to start somewhere. Dear one, if you shut yourself away then no one will _ever _hear you. I'm not asking you to go out among the masses alone, I'm asking you to go and be among the children of an old friend of mine. They aren't cruel or bigoted and, had we not been delayed last night, you would have met them at the party. I can promise you that if anything goes awry you can come home right away and we won't discuss the matter further. You are right though, I do not understand what it is like to be you, I cannot fathom what your life was like before you came to live here nor do I know how you feel when you are stared at for your mask, but you are deeply loved by your family and we hear you and see you and we still somehow love you, tricks and all."

Erik stared up at the man; he'd been let down so much in his short life before the Comte rescued him that night so long ago it seemed. He'd been abandoned and hurt and made to feel less than human. For a time fully believing that he was indeed an animal, no, a _thing_, a wretched creature, undeserving and unworthy of any scrap of kindness. Now? He loved the Comte and the fawn more than he thought any person could possibly love anyone and it would be agony to think that they didn't love him in return. He couldn't imagine living without them now. Erik fully believed that he needed that love to simply breathe, survival would be pointless and he might as well be a dead, empty shell if it ever stopped, so he uttered words he had never once before said,

"I love you, too, Papa."

* * *

"So . . . where are we going?"

Erik glanced over at the fawn and sighed heavily, "To the estate of Comte de Chagny and his family, for the umpteenth time."

" . . . Why are we going?" Robért leaned back in his seat.

"_Why are we going?_" Erik mocked, he'd answered these same questions for the past ten minutes and it was grating already frayed nerves.

"I heard that! Papa said you're not allowed to throw your voice like that! It's confusing."

"_You're such a baby."_

"Stop that!"

"_Make me._"

Erik yelped when Robért's cane thwacked through the small space and smacked his knee, "You little- argh!"

They tumbled about in the carriage so much that Erik's mask flew off and fell under the seat, the fawn's cane was flung onto the opposite seat and they had bumps, bruises and Erik was certain his eye would be blacked from a well-aimed elbow to his face. They had to scramble to get their clothes straightened, mask and cane in their proper places, and tempers still flaring as the carriage pulled up the gravel drive and to the front door.

"You are such a bully." Robért muttered as he shoved past Erik.

"And I'm not even going to tell you what you are." Erik snarled, elbowing the smaller boy hard and stepping down and trying not to glare at their hosts but it was difficult when he saw the line-up.

There was the Comte and his wife, then there was a boy Erik's age, two girls either close to Erik's age or just slightly younger and a little boy of maybe . . . five? Clinging to the older boy's coat.

"Welcome to our home, Erik, Robért." The Comte de Chagny said congenially.

Erik internally groaned as he smiled and thanked the man then muttered death-threats under his breath at the fawn who in turn threatened to reveal the nasty surprise Erik had left Father in retaliation for the forced 'playdate'.

This was a _very_ bad idea.

**A/N: Forgive me for being a sadistic, cruel human being. THE FEELS! AGH! Anywho, thus Raoul and Phillipe come into the picture! And a whole lot of other stuff and things happens! This chappy was a bit longer than my normal fare but I suppose that is fully acceptable. RnR if you please.**


	7. Of Pianos and Tempers

**A/N: So, didn't have internet for several days due to weather and that's why this update is late. And that is all I can say about that! Also, some people are either going to be really happy with this chapter or really, really disappointed but I'm working on making it all better so don't be too upset! RnR if ye please!**

Erik and Robért followed Philippe and the little one, Raoul, into a large parlor room, the older de Chagny boy abruptly turned and put his hands on his hips. Erik had to grab the fawn to stop him from running into Philippe and stood back a bit, eyebrow raised,

"What?"

"Look, we're only doing this whole thing because our parents told us to, we don't know you and I don't trust you." Philippe narrowed his eyes, "Why do you wear a mask?"

"I don't have to tell you." Erik said, his temper heating up as he tried to stare down the other boy, it was difficult since they were the same height.

"No? Well then we don't have to share anything with you." Philippe said, crossing his arms and looking triumphant.

"That's just fine with us, come on, Fawn." Erik grabbed for Robért's sleeve and was about to turn on his heel and storm out when the little blonde boy spoke,

"Why do you call him that?"

There was a silence that followed uncomfortably close to the question. Erik winced slightly, he didn't want to snap at the little boy but at the same time, he already made his stance on answering questions quite clear. He was, however, saved from the dilemma at hand when the fawn spoke up,

"Papa calls me 'faon' so Erik does too. And Papa calls Erik 'renard', so I call him 'Fox', on account of how very clever he is." Robért smiled, quite happy on sharing the family quirk.

"Fox?" Philippe sneered slightly, "Are you clever then, _Fox_? Are you smart?"

Erik's temper flared up even more and he was about to say something about their comparative intelligence (he was obviously far superior than this infuriating boy) but once more the younger de Chagny interrupted his thoughtfully constructed insult,

"Oh! Like how I call Philippe 'Phil'? And how we call Matilda and Rosette 'Matty' and 'Rose'?" He smiled excitedly, clapping his hands a bit.

Erik wrinkled his brow, that wasn't _quite_ the same thing but he had a feeling arguing with this boy was going to prove impossible so he muttered 'I guess so' and left it at that. He then tried to leave the room again with the fawn and escape the irritating boys and their surprisingly similar views on how they should all feel about being forced into association with each other but, of course, Robért thwarted his attempts once more.

"Do you have a piano? Erik is quite good, you know, he taught himself how to play."

Erik almost groaned aloud this time but was able to hold in his displeasure by pulling the fawn closer to the door. Philippe and Erik were both more agitated when Raoul nodded and pointed to the hallway,

"We have one in the other room at the end of the hall, I'll show you!"

He then proceeded to grab Robért's hand and attempt to drag him off. Erik immediately went into a panic as the fawn was whisked out of his grasp by a five year-old who clearly did not understand that Robért could not see and almost led the handicapped boy into end tables and other things more than once. Erik was forced to hurry after them or have the fawn risk injury and was soon in a large room with many instruments in various stages of misuse along the walls. He grimaced at the state of the place, there was a violin, cello, and mandolin on one wall in desperate need of new strings and probably a tuning. A harp shoved mercifully in the corner, many of its strings were broken as well and the gilded frame of the harp was tarnished and scratched. And there was also a collection of woodwind and brass instruments that Erik could not name but knew that they shouldn't be in such states of disrepair. Saddest of all, however, was the piano.

Erik felt his throat tighten and his chest ache at the sad state of the thing. He walked up to the instrument and carefully ran his fingers over the dusty keys, looking into the casket of the grand and seeing with one glance that it hadn't been maintained at all and, when he pressed down on a low C, the piano gave a horrendous groan that set Erik's teeth on edge and made his eyes water,

"Why isn't it in tune? Why aren't any of them in tune?" He turned and glared hatefully at the de Chagny boys, somehow feeling that this was entirely their fault.

"We aren't really allowed in here and no one plays in the family anyway." Philippe shrugged and leaned on the doorjamb, completely nonplussed by the room.

"Why?" Erik looked around at all the instruments that should and could sound beautiful if properly taken care of.

"Music is so boring though." Philippe muttered, rolling his eyes.

Erik couldn't put into words why he wanted to break every bone in Philippe de Chagny's face at that moment but he was more than certain they would _never _be friends, let alone peers. He just stood there for a moment quivering with rage before taking a slow, steadying breath, "Do you have tuning forks?"

"Over here," Raoul ran to a cupboard and pulled out a wooden case, "They're lots of fun to bang on things cuz they hum!"

Erik took the case and opened it, furrowing his brow when he saw that there were several missing, "Whatever."

He grabbed the fawn's hand and pulled him over to the piano, putting Robért's fingers on each fork,

"Here's some of the high notes A, C, G, and D, some of the low; B, C, D, and E. F sharp, E and C flat, the rest don't matter, can you remember all of them?" He asked, quelling his anger as he addressed the younger boy.

"I think so and you'll correct me if I don't." the fawn smiled and touched each fork, murmuring each name to himself and closing his eyes in concentration.

Erik nodded and removed his suit coat, rolled up his sleeves, and leaned into the piano, "We'll start from one side and work our way down, alright?"

"How are you going to tune it if you don't have the right forks?" Philippe pointed out, curious despite himself.

"I remember what each note sounds like, you buffoon," Erik snapped, pinging the fork lightly on the wood and listening, "I'm just using these to keep track. It isn't easy tuning a piano this untouched and with this many forks missing."

Raoul looked wide-eyed from his brother to Erik and back again, Philippe was fuming to be called a 'buffoon' and hated being wrong. It was odd to both younger boys how their older brothers could both be so stubborn and smart and still not like each other.

"Fine! If you can tune that blasted thing _to a T_, then I'll give you 10 Francs! But if you can't, you have to take off your mask!" Philippe grinned in arrogant triumph.

Erik falter then drew himself up to full-height, "You're on, _oaf_."

"Fine, _freak_."

And so it began.

* * *

Erik wiped his forehead a bit and closed his eyes, it was not nearly as easy as he had originally thought, the piano was so horribly out of tune but he had to win now, he had to take this challenge by storm and prove the stupid boy wrong . . . or risk removing his mask. It felt like everything was at stake, like he had to win to validate something, almost as if-

"Erik?"

The masked boy blinked and looked at the fawn who had diligently sat in that exact spot for the past hour and a half handing him forks when asked, Erik smiled and put his hand on Robért's shoulder to show he was listening,

"Yes, Robért?"

"Why does he want to see under your mask so badly? Furthermore," The fawn shifted his weight slightly, "Why don't you just take it off if it is causing so much trouble. You didn't used to wear it as much as you do now. Why is that?"

Erik blinked and looked back at the piano, he had never once let the fawn touch his face in all the years they had known each other. Funny, he thought, but the subject never came up. Robért knew Erik wore one because people talked about it and Father mentioned it from time to time, but for the blind boy, Erik had always been a sort of faceless entity, a voice by his shoulder, and someone to climb into bed with on winter nights. Erik found it strange that Robért never once asked to 'see' his face the way he does with Father by touching and memorizing the features there and he hadn't thought twice about any of this until now.

He tried to find the words but they eluded him, how do you explain deformity and ugliness to someone who has no concept of either? He couldn't explain his more emotional painting to his brother any more than he could his face. Or what about the story of his origin? It occurred to Erik that Robért had never asked after that either, he had been told that Erik would simply be 'living' with them for a while. He'd never asked after parents or past homes or reasons why Erik would be staying. The fawn had simply accepted that Erik was there and would be there until otherwise decided.

This train of thought left Erik stumped and he didn't realize that he'd been standing there with his mouth open for some time until he felt a warm hand searching for and finding his hand,

"Fox?"

Erik swallowed, suddenly very thirsty and lost, "I . . . One day," He said softly, moving to sit next to the fawn on the piano bench, "One day I'll tell you everything about me and the mask and why things are like this . . . one day but not today."

Robért was obviously curious fit to bursting but he pursed his lips and nodded, "Alright, I'll hold you to that then."

Erik nodded but his heart ached, he hated keeping things from Robért, hated his own cowardice and hated that he had to be different at all. Why couldn't he just be like Robért and Father? Why couldn't he have a normal face and be as happy as he is now without a catch?

"Erik . . . is the piano done?"

Erik blinked the sudden moisture out of his eyes and swallowed again, fearing the fawn might guess something was wrong by the threat of a meltdown in his voice,

"Nearly. Just a few more adjustments." Erik tried a smile but it wouldn't stick so he stood and ducked back into the piano, "Low E, Fawn."

* * *

Erik's fingers danced over the ivory keys victoriously, he had successfully tuned the piano and all was right with the world as the adults looked on in admiration and Philippe glowered from the corner. Raoul and Robért were both sitting next to the bench listening to Erik play and things seemed like they were in his favor once more.

"Well, I believe you owe me 10 Francs, Philippe." Erik said, standing and crossing his arms smugly, "That was the wager, was it not?"

Philippe glared balefully at Erik and reached into his pocket, retrieving the banknote and thrusting it into Erik's open palm, "There. You won."

"Wager?" Damien's eyebrow rose in its characteristic arch of disapproval, "You boys were_ betting money_?"

Erik was about to defend himself and blame everything on Philippe but the Comte de Chagny laughed and clapped Father on the shoulder,

"Oh, come now, Damien, they were just having fun! It isn't as if Phil bet Erik to do something dangerous and that piano hasn't been in tune in years since the children tried to use it to play hide and seek."

Philippe and Raoul grimaced and the two girls (Matilda and Rosette, if memory served) giggled at the mentioning of that misadventure. Erik snorted and smirked as he helped the fawn to his feet.

* * *

Things went well for quite a while, at least to Damien they did, he had been away for some business for four days. Four whole days from home! And he was looking forward to getting back and whiling away an afternoon with his sons and a snifter of good brandy by the fire. He was just smiling to himself at the thought and opening the front door when he heard the yelling. Damien groaned when he recognized Erik's voice, it carried so well even in crowded spaces, amidst hurried apologies and someone crying.

"Well, so much for a relaxing evening." Damien sighed and dropped his bag and coat (there was no one around to put them away for some bizarre reason) and hurried to the East Wing where the shouting was coming from.

The Comte de la Roche came upon the scene and was immediately certain that his evening was going to be anything but relaxing. One of the new help had accidentally left a trolley in the hallway which Robért had not seen and had clearly ran headlong into, which would explain why he was sitting on the floor gripping his knee and biting his lip as tears rolled down his cheeks. Erik, who was clearly doing the shouting, was saying some very offensive things of or to the hapless young man responsible for the whole mess and being restrained at the same time by M. Gerard the Head Butler, the poor man was trying his best to keep Erik from visiting violence upon the new help and at the same time tell the others, who were all leaning out doors to listen in, to go back about their business (which explained why no one had greeted Damien when he came in). Damien stepped more into the hallway and it took a moment before Erik fully realized that he was there then everything got quiet.

"M. Gerard, would please take Robért downstairs and see if he is indeed injured beyond help." Damien said in his best calm voice, and turned to the new man, "I apologize for I cannot remember your name at the moment, but please clean this up. The rest of you get back to work, and you," He pointed at Erik, "You are to come with me, young man."

Erik flinched and followed when Father turned back around, glaring balefully at the new man before turning his eyes back to Damien's broad back.

Damien closed the door after them and turned around to be instantly assaulted by Erik's excuses,

"Father, he left the trolley right there! He could have-"

Damien was able to stop the chatter with a look and pointed at the chair in front of his desk. Erik sat obediently and watched the tall Comte move around to sit in his chair. There a tense moment then Damien spoke,

"How old are you, Erik."

"Fifteen." Erik responded immediately.

"You will not be fifteen until the 16th of July. Try again." Damien said, forcing patience into his voice despite how frustrating this was.

" . . . fourteen."

"Ah, so you are _not _an adult?" Damien stood, his eyes widening slightly in mock surprise.

"I-"

"And I am not dead!" Damien leaned back on his desk, "Therefore, you are_ not_ the head of this household!"

Erik blinked in confusion, "But-"

"Thus, I seem to remember telling you to defer to M. Gerard when and if there is a problem with the staff and I am not around." Damien said, briskly cutting Erik off again, "So, I would like to know at what point the thought entered your mind that heaping insult and abuse on; most of which I am deathly certain you _did not_ learn in this household, and attempting to cause bodily harm to a new member of staff was indeed your place?"

Erik bit his lip, thoroughly cowed by Father's logic, "I . . . I just reacted."

"I see, well you reacted poorly and for such you will personally go to the new man and apologize and you will then assist him in his duties for the next month-"

"What?" Erik's eyes widened and he stood up.

"Two months." Damien drew himself up to his impressive height.

"You can't-"

"Would you like to try for three?" Damien shouted, pointing a menacing finger in Erik's face, quieting him instantly.

Erik snapped his mouth shut on whatever retort he had building in his throat and sat down angrily, crossing his arms and glaring murder upon the floor.

"I do not know where such language or persuasions of violence came from but I am more than certain that you did not learn it from me!" Damien went to his liquor cabinet and got out his whiskey, pouring three fingers and taking it down in several gulps, steadying his temper and turning back around, "Well?"

Erik didn't answer at first, after all he was in the right, he shouldn't have to apologize or do work! The fawn had tripped over a trolley that shouldn't have been there in the first place! How could Father not _see_ this?

"Erik, I will stand here and wait for an answer until we are both old and gray if I have to." Damien said, pouring more and moving to sit on his desk, tapping his foot in an irritatingly irregular beat.

Erik growled under his breath and bit out, "The Gypsies."

Damien faltered then sighed heavily, "I should have known. Erik," He sighed again, setting his glass down and leaning forward, his hands clasped on his legs, "I know this is difficult but you need to curb that temper of yours. I know you are better than that and I am aware that you reacted as such because you felt your brother was threatened but that is no excuse for violence! How does that make you any better than the Gypsies? Hmm?"

Erik didn't answer at first then he took a shuddering breath, " . . . he changed something then didn't tell anyone. That's the house rule! You don't change something without letting Robért know! Everyone is aware of that!" He felt his anger rising up in his chest again, "Gerard should have told him!"

"You're right, but do you think Gerard is the kind to forget something that important? He's been looking after this house since Robért was an infant, Erik," Damien said in as gentling a tone as possible, "It may have slipped the young man's mind to alert anyone that he had left something out of place and that would be because most people are not used to having people with visual impairments in the house. And I can promise you that he did not leave it out with malicious aforethought."

Erik sighed heavily and put his head in his hands, "I'm sorry, Papa."

"Very good, now go apologize to who you think you should and we will put this all behind us." Damien patted Erik's shoulder gently and smiled, "I will say that I'm glad you're so fiercely protective of your brother, dear one, it is a great comfort to know that someone will look after him when I cannot."

Erik smiled and stood up, "It is my undoing it would seem."

"Not your undoing, Erik; you just need to be more selective in who you unleash such wrath upon." Damien chuckled, "Go on then."

* * *

Erik sat back on his bed and was miserable, he'd apologized to the new man, Darryl was his name, and now he was just biding his time before he had to work. He groaned at the idea, he did not like cleaning or anything that the staff did, but he supposed it was his own fault for flying so far off the handle at Darryl like he had but . . . he couldn't help it!

He rolled onto his stomach and tugged moodily on a loose string on his sleeve, he hated that he was being punished, yes he may have deserved it but it didn't mean he was supposed to like it. He was stewing over all these things when there was a knock on the door,

"Enter at your own risk." Erik muttered and watched the door open and the fawn walked in, "Oh, how's the leg?"

"Fine, well, _bruised_ but fine." Robért sat down on the bed, flopping onto his back and adjusting the pillows to his liking, "You shouldn't have done what you-"

"Yes, yes, Father already punished me thank you very m-"

"Let me finish," the fawn snapped, swatting until he found Erik's shoulder then smacking it, "You shouldn't have done what you did but thank you for doing it."

Erik blinked then smiled a little, "You're welcome."

Robért rolled over until he was pressed against Erik, putting his thin arms around the older boy, "I'm glad you're my brother, Fox, I'm not so scared of the world when you're with me."

"I feel the same, Fawn," Erik murmured, pressing his nose in the other's dark locks, "I'll always look after you."

"Promise?"

"On my life." Erik whispered, hugging his brother tightly until the knock on his door announced that it would soon be time to start working again which sent the fawn into a fit of giggling and Erik snarled and pushed him off the bed which started a squabbling match that Damien had to end with threats of no dessert for a week.

**A/N: Don't be mad! I know that lots of you were hoping that Philippe and Raoul would instantly like Erik and the fawn but let's be realistic here for a moment, when do kids ever immediately warm up to ANY new people? Exactly. Don't worry, I'm sure that Erik and Philippe will get over it, they might as well since this arrangement isn't going to end any time soon. As to Erik's increasing loss of control over his temper, I think he had a lot of pent-up, suppressed rage all his life and it's just bursting out of him in waves. And Damien learns every so often that Erik's way of dealing with things people related and the proper way of doing such are two completely different animals but at the same time, I think he expects it, reasons why he isn't backhanding Erik for every little slip-up. RnR if you please!**


	8. Of Billiards and Masks

**A/N: Okay, the feels I felt during writing this one . . . almost literally killed me. If you experience any form of I'm-dying-from-the-feel-itis, please go to your local library or bookshelf ****and read your favorite book ****or home entertainment center and watch your favorite movie and don't go to the doctor, they'll think you're nuts. RnR please!**

"You're doing it wrong."

"Erik, shut it."

"What's wrong, Philippe? You've been so _touchy_ lately."

"Erik, shut up! You're impossible!"

Erik smirked and lounged back on the sofa, Philippe had been attempting for the last ten minutes to hang a mounted deer head that he'd had made after his first hunting trip last month. They'd been forced into friendship against their will nearly three years ago by Erik's father and now? Well, they were more inclined to spend an afternoon in each other's company these days with their younger siblings.

Speaking of, Raoul and Robért wandered in, Raoul was now eight and the fawn was fifteen and much, much taller than Erik had hoped he would become, nearly the same height as Erik himself hinting that the boy would take after their father with his physique.

"Finally, Robért, tell your brother he's a twit." Philippe said, going back to his task.

Robért's eyebrow rose then he turned toward where Erik was sprawled, "Is it true, renard, are you a twit?"

Erik snorted and rolled his eyes, "Phil is the twit, not me."

"You shouldn't call each other names." Raoul pointed out, moving to climb onto the couch with Erik, leaning back on the young man's legs that were pulled up to make room for the blonde boy.

"Says you," Philippe muttered, giving up on the mount and sitting on the floor by them, his blonde hair was darker now that he was older and kept shorter than Raoul's, a light moustache gracing his upper lip, he was also a bit more around the middle than when he was younger but not overweight by any means, "We call it 'playful banter', isn't that right, Fox?"

Erik narrowed his eyes and turned to Robért, "Sit down, Fawn, you're making my legs ache looking at you."

Robért snorted and moved until he found the couch then plopped down by where Erik's head was, "So what should we do now?"

"I don't know, the twit is the one who had the brilliant idea to hang dead animal heads on the walls so ask him. He clearly knows how to while away an afternoon." Erik muttered, nudging Philippe's head with his toe.

Philippe batted Erik's foot away and scoffed, "When was the last time you went _anywhere_ _at all_?"

Erik scowled and propped himself up on his elbows, "Shut it, Phil, I went to the opera just two nights past."

Phil snorted again and cocked an eyebrow, his head tilted slightly to avoid Erik's foot, "I meant besides the opera and here."

Erik slumped back on the couch and huffed, "What else is there?"

"Erik, don't brood, it's annoying." The fawn said, reaching up to tap Erik's nose.

"Stop that!" Erik pulled back and scowled, "You are all impossible!"

"Am I impossible, Cousin Erik?" Raoul asked, his eyes widening adorably.

Erik grimaced then sighed, "No, Raoul, you are the least impossible."

Philippe turned to rest an elbow on the couch cushion, "Well now that we've established that point, what should we do?"

Erik sighed and sat up, swinging his long legs to put his feet on the floor, "I don't know or care."

"We could go down the lane and see if what's-her-face is home?" Robért said meekly.

Erik blushed a deep crimson and quickly stood up, "Her name is Jacqueline and you know that."

"Is it? Oh, I suppose I didn't connect the name, you _rarely_ talk about her." Robért tilted his head and Erik _knew _the little brat was trying to get a rise out of him.

"Robért, be quiet." Erik muttered, moving to the window angrily.

"Oh, like no one knows about you and her," Philippe stood up and moved to stand across from Erik, crossing his arms, "You've been mooning after her for nearly five months!"

"There is no 'me and her' and I have _not _been mooning over anyone!" Erik growled out, glaring death and misery at Philippe.

"You have _so_!" Raoul chimed in, bouncing on his seat and grinning widely, "Phil said you _love her_!"

Erik felt his blush extending to the roots of his hair and he wanted to sink into the floor. The truth was he'd only caught glimpses of Jacqueline Augur who lived just past the grounds with her mother and father in a small cottage but . . . she was _lovely_, long curly black hair, big green eyes, and the same age as Erik if he calculated correctly. He blushed more and quickly turned and left the room amidst the other boys trying to call him back.

He didn't want to be an object of ridicule over that, call him names in fun, play pranks on him, but make the slightest inclination that he did indeed fancy a young woman? No, he refused to be part of that.

* * *

Erik found a secluded area of the house, one of the libraries, and sat down near the unlit fireplace and sighed, leaning back and tipping his head until he felt the cold wall. It was true; the girl plagued his thoughts and sometimes, his dreams. He was feeling things he couldn't explain anymore than he could understand them, emotions and feelings and odd urges but he was too embarrassed to ask Father about that because the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like the symptoms of mental illness or a disease of some sort.

"Hiding again?"

Erik looked up and there was Matilda, the older girl in the family, he blinked, "No."

"Really? The others are in the billiard room and you're here, by yourself." She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, "I'd say you're hiding."

Erik furrowed his brow, he hadn't really ever associated himself with the girls, they were; after all, members of the opposite sex and Erik was not quite sure how to go about speaking to a gender that took 'playful banter' and pranks personally then ran off crying and tattling immediately.

"Well if I am indeed 'hiding', then don't you think that means I want to be _alone?_" He glared at her, not caring at that moment if she did take him for a bully and left, seeing her cry may actually make him feel a bit better about his predicament.

Matilda narrowed her eyes and sniffed in response, "Yes, I can see you do. I just thought I should tell you that Jacqueline and her family are downstairs where my parents are entertaining."

Erik's eyes widened, did _everyone_ know about him liking this girl?

* * *

Erik bit his lip as he stood there with the other boys, they were playing billiards and while Erik was not particularly good at it, he was participating despite that because on one hand, Raoul had insisted on playing and Robért couldn't play so to make things fair Erik would play on the youngest de Chagny's team, and on the other hand, Jacqueline seemed fascinated by the game (or the young men playing, it was hard to tell) and was therefore perched on the arm of one of the sofas watching intently

"Why don't we show her how to play? Erik, you do it." Philippe said, smiling knowingly when Erik faltered and accidentally knocked the 8-ball into the left corner pocket, "It seems we need to start over anyway."

Erik cursed softly under his breath and looked reluctantly over at the girl who ducked her head shyly, "Would, ahem, would you like me to show you?"

"For God's sake, Erik, smile! You look so grim no wonder she won't talk to you!" Philippe punched Erik's arm lightly, grinning like the idiot he _so was_.

Erik thought of the benefits of hitting Philippe over the head with the cue-stick and thereby knocking him unconscious but then turned and looked at the girl again, "Would you?"

She smiled and looked up at him a little, "If it isn't too much trouble."

He grimaced, it was a _lot _of trouble to teach someone billiards let alone a girl he was infatuated with but then he smiled tightly and gestured for her to come closer, "It, uh, it isn't that difficult. Here."

He handed her a pole and directed her to stand in front of him, he swallowed thickly and moved his hand over hers, putting them in the proper position and then directed her to bend over to line up her shot and found himself bending with her,

"You just . . . uh, take a breath and when you think you have the right line-up you . . . let go and knock the cue-ball forward and . . . that's it, then you just watch the other balls as they move into the pockets, hopefully." Erik mumbled, not realizing he was trembling until he backed up and let her try it for herself, glaring at Philippe who was barely able to stifle his giggles behind his hand.

Erik excused himself the rest of the afternoon until they were to go home.

* * *

The fawn leaned back in the carriage, "So, where did you go?"

Erik didn't answer and just stared out the window moodily.

" . . . Erik, I know you can hear me."

"I'm ignoring you, since you're so intent on forcing my attention." Erik snapped.

Robért didn't say anything for a moment then leaned forward, "Do _not_ snap at me."

Erik glared indignantly at the fawn, "You can't tell me what to do."

"Stop being so childish, Erik, it's tiring." Robért muttered, sitting back, "I'm not a child anymore, you know? You can talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about." Erik insisted, wishing he could go somewhere else and be alone, the proximity of Jacqueline had caused his skin to feel feverish and he was uncomfortable no matter how much he shifted his weight.

"Of course there isn't, well then you just go back in your own mind and brood about everything then! She likes you, you know!" The fawn huffed and turned so he wouldn't be facing Erik.

"And how did you come to that conclusion?" Erik scoffed,

"Because she told me." Robért said, crossing his arms.

Erik's eyes widened, "What? When did she- How do- Fawn, tell me!"

"No." the fawn closed his eyes and refused to speak the rest of the trip home no matter how Erik entreated or threatened him.

* * *

They both stormed up the front steps and right past Damien when the man poked his head out of the study when he heard them arrive. Robért ran up the stairs, not tripping once, with Erik pelting him with insults and pleas all the way until Damien heard a door slam and Erik's frantic knocking and shouting for the door to open or else, please.

Damien sighed heavily and looked longingly at his book and chair that he'd gotten up from but he had to once again be the peacemaker no matter how much he'd begun to believe he had a pair of wild animals in place of two supposedly well-mannered young men living in the house.

"Erik, cease that yelling and pestering your brother and get in here." He called, knowing that something had happened causing such a one-sided argument.

Erik slowly moved into the room, "What did I do now?"

Damien sighed and ran his hand through his hair, feeling the graying strands as his fingers combed them, "I swear I never know what is with you boys, one moment you're thick as thieves and the next you're at each other's throats like a pair of fighting cocks! Now, what was all that just now then, hmm? Sit down before you fall over, you're trembling."

Erik started and became aware that he was indeed shivering but he wasn't cold (it was just August after all) and he wasn't afraid, per say, but he sat down anyway.

"Well? Let's have it then, what are you arguing at your brother for?" Damien asked carefully, sitting himself down in his comfortable chair, marking his page and setting his book aside.

"With."

"Pardon?" Damien lifted his head from examining the broken spine of the book.

"I was arguing _with_ the fawn. Not at." Erik said, trying to remain indifferent.

" . . . I do believe that le faon did not once reply at all unless he did it in mime, therefore you were arguing _at _him." Damien sat up more, grimacing when his chair creaked loudly under his weight (he had put on some weight . . . damn this getting old business), "Now that you've attempted to correct my grammar, tell me what is going on. I send you off to have some quiet and you bring the maelstrom back into the house. Why?"

Erik opened his mouth once then again but couldn't find the words and his face grew redder and redder the more he tried, " . . . "

"Erik, are you feeling alright?" Damien's eyes widened in shock as Erik's face got a lovely shade of crimson so uncharacteristic of the usually quite pale young man.

"I don't know!" Erik stood up and started pacing, "I just, rgh! I don't know!" He gritted his teeth and leaned his elbow on the mantle, glaring at the family portraits that were displayed there.

"You don't know? Are you ill?" Damien stayed seated, "Something has you amply distressed, that much is obvious, but as to what and why, I am most curious."

Erik bit his lip and sighed, " . . . Jacqueline Augur."

Damien furrowed his brow, "What? One of the de Chagny's tenants' daughter? What of her?"

"I-I don't know!" Erik huffed in exasperation, throwing his hands up, "I just . . . she was there today and I . . . "

Damien stood and turned to face Erik, "She was at the house then?"

"Yes." Erik muttered, turning back to the mantle.

"And that's why you're so distressed? Erik, I fear you aren't making sense."

"I know that!" Erik shouted then grimaced, clearing his throat and continuing, "I know that, but I'm not making sense to myself either, Father."

Damien blinked then it dawned on him, he chuckled and rubbed his beard, "Ah, now I see."

Erik blinked and looked at Damien, "What do you see? What?"

"Well it makes perfectly logical sense, she is a pretty girl." Damien shrugged, still smiling and moved to sit on his desk.

Erik stared, perfectly infuriated by Father withholding information, "What are you talking about?"

"Erik, my dear boy, you're in love." Damien chuckled, shaking his head.

Erik blinked slowly, his shoulders slumped and he scratched the back of his neck, " . . . I am?"

"Yes, you are and I do believe the young lady in question is quite fond of you." Father smiled, leaning his weight back on his hands, looking quite pleased with himself, "That being said, why do you look like I just informed you of your imminent demise?"

Erik sat down slowly, feeling his chest tighten, "That's it then?"

"What's 'it'?"

"I'll just . . . stay home from now on." Erik murmured, staring down at his knees.

Damien furrowed his brow and stood up again, moving to sit on the ottoman, thinking how very often he and Erik were in these exact positions, "Erik, you're in love, not _dying_."

"No, I know that but . . . well," Erik took a deep breath and continued, "Father, nothing would come of it."

"What nonsense is this then? 'Nothing would come of it'? And what, my dear boy, do you think goes into marriage?" Damien sat back, totally flabbergasted by Erik.

"How could anything? Father, she's beautiful and so full of light and life and I- . . . I'm not." Erik hung his head slightly in defeat.

"Wherever did you get such a preposterous idea?" Damien's eyes widened, "Erik, she would be lucky to have you! You're talented and intelligent; you have a kind soul and a heart bigger than any person's I've ever had the privilege to know! What is holding you back from courting this young woman?"

Erik stood up angrily and ripped off his mask, "I can't _possibly_ think of a single reason, Father!"

Damien stood too, still much taller than Erik, "Ah, so you believe that your face is what is holding you back, eh? And how is it accomplishing that then? Last I knew, love is felt with the heart, not the face."

Erik groaned angrily in frustration, "How can you be this way? Look at me! How could she love this? How can anyone? How can you even _look _at me? She'll see me and run screaming!"

"You can't know that! Erik, not everyone in this world is so shallow and I am _insulted _that you would say or think such a thing!" Damien thundered in response to Erik's yelling, his heart ached that Erik would still think himself so loathsome after all these years.

"Well maybe you are! You and the rest of them! Look at me, look me in the eye and tell me that isn't true!" Erik shouted, throwing the mask on the floor, not caring that it may have shattered by such an action, "Tell me this isn't the face that drove my mother away and caused towns to scream in terror with one glance! Tell me this face isn't hideous enough to warrant a cage for a boy! TELL ME!"

Damien stared at Erik as he dwindled from righteous indignation to trembling sobs of dismay, it was just heartrending to see such anguish and fear in a person's eyes where there should only be the hope and the promise of youth. He could not fathom where such rage and pain would have come from in someone so young, there shouldn't be such a predicament, there shouldn't be a man of only eighteen feeling so alone and hideous that he shouldn't even leave his home for fear of falling in love! It was an injustice that filled Damien's gut with a deep, angry fire as his son, whom he loved more than anything except perhaps his natural-born son, brought so low by an emotion that was meant to instill happiness and new beginnings.

Damien found himself kneeling in front of Erik and holding him, his own tears falling onto his shoulder, "I cannot speak for the rest of this world, Erik, I cannot tell you why anything that happened to you did, but there is one thing I can say until I am blue in the face and I run out of air, we _love _you. Nothing will change that, not your face, not the world, nothing! You are ours forever, you are my son and Robért's brother and that is not going to change until we are all dust," He pulled Erik back so they could look at each other, holding his son's shoulders tightly, "As for Jacqueline and anyone else, if they cannot see past your face and see what is beneath it, this genius, this talent, this wonderful example of triumph in adversity, then _they do not deserve you_! And while them saying good-bye will be the hardest thing that you may have to face, there will always be more to say hello. Do not shut love out simply for the sake of one girl! There are so many out there and there will be one out there that will see you and hear you and will _never _let you go. I can _promise _you this, my dear child."

Erik sobbed and leaned forward to hug Damien, "I just-just . . . is-is it worth it?"

"Always, dear one, always."

* * *

Robért leaned against the door and blinked slowly then went back to his room, something was wrong with Erik's face? What was all this talk of cages and mothers and fear? He found his bed and sat back upon it, pondering all that he had overheard and it did not make sense, Erik was smart, beyond smart, he was a genius and Robért used to hate that Papa called him 'le faon' until Erik started using it and he was 'Fox' now and everything should be perfect but, somehow it wasn't. Robért tried to understand why Erik felt the way he did, he knew that his brother wore a mask but he'd never asked why and he would never presume to touch someone without permission and yet, he couldn't help but feel a sense of being left out of all this, Papa and Erik knew something that Robért didn't and for whatever reason it was a terrible and dark secret that Erik kept hidden from him for some seven or eight years.

The blind boy sat in deep thought over this puzzle and thought that perhaps he should ask Erik again why the mask and secrecy.

**A/N: see? SEE? Jeez I was writing this at the art building and almost DYING! Ugh so many feels! I need to hug a kitty now so if you'll excuse me. Rnr please.**


	9. Of Pain and Mirrors

**A/N: firstly, I would like to thank everyone. Every single person who has even given this story a passing glance, it now has 43 reviews and therefore has more than any story I've EVER written. So thank you so much. Secondly . . . this chapter . . . I can't warn you enough of its content, hate it or love it, Erik is not a happy-endings character. He just isn't. Writing this made me cry, okay? So please try to remember that I write Erik as himself, not as who I would want him to be. RnR please.**

Erik went up to his room, he was exhausted; emotionally and mentally, and just wanted to go to bed. He pushed his door open and sighed,

"Robért, I want to go to sleep, alright? Please go to your room." He moved to take off his vest and get his nightclothes out.

The fawn didn't move from where he was perched on the bed, " . . . Fox, why do you wear a mask?"

Erik blinked, freezing with the clotheshanger in his hand ready to hang his shirt up, "What?"

"Why do you wear a mask?" Robért asked again.

"Please not now, Fawn." Erik said, moving to finish undressing, "Go to bed."

"Erik," Robért moved closer, reaching out his hand until it fell on Erik's arm, he gripped tightly, "Why were you so upset when you found out she likes you?"

Erik stared down at the boy, he had his shirt only half on, if Robért were to move his hand up he'd feel the scarring on Erik's shoulder. He was trapped, he couldn't lie to his brother but at the same time, telling the truth was difficult in and of itself; it was painful and it couldn't be taken back once it was put out in the open.

"I'd think you'd be happy . . . Matilda told me Jacqueline is very pretty and she's fond of you . . . why are you so upset by that?" The fawn bit his lip, "I know I would be happy."

"Fawn . . . " Erik sighed, shifting and pulling his shirt on all the way, "I . . . I'm just . . . I'm different and because of that I- . . . damn. I suppose the only thing for it is to start at the beginning since I cannot think of any other way to tell the story."

"Alright, I prefer stories that start from the beginning anyway."

Erik led Robért to the bed and they both sat down on the bed, huddled together under the covers. Erik slid his mask and wig off but kept a safe distance from the fawn so as not to give himself away.

"When I was very young . . . "

And Erik told the story. He told the fawn about his mother and the Gypsies, about the circus and his cage, about Damien's rescue . . .

"But . . . you didn't say _why _you were put in a cage." Robért pointed out, "Why? Why the mask and why did your mother give you away? It's all so very sad, Erik, but there must be a reason."

Erik bit his lip, they'd both shared tears over the tale, the fawn had clutched at Erik's hand through most of the narrative, and now Erik took that hand and placed it on his face, on the right side of his face.

"This is why. My face, it's . . . deformed."

Robért's eyes widened in shock and he pulled his hand away but then furrowed his brow in determination and reached out again to touch Erik, running his fingers over the pits and gashes in his older brother's head, cheek, lips, neck, and shoulder. And Robért whimpered, tears rolling more freely down his face,

"But . . . but this isn't your fault! It's-It's not fair!" The fawn threw himself forward, hugging onto Erik, "I wish I could see you and tell you there's nothing wrong with you! Erik, I wish I could, just once, paint for you, paint what I always thought you looked like! How I always painted you in my head, like my flowers! I always knew you were handsome and I was right."

Erik's eyes widened and he started to cry again, he felt so silly; he was the older brother and eighteen too! He shouldn't be so prone to bawling like this! But here he was, hugging Robért and feeling his fragile, haphazardly mended heart stitch itself together just a little bit more.

* * *

Erik woke to the fawn sprawled on top of him, drooling onto his shirt and clutching onto Erik's hand,

"Fawn . . . Robért, wake up, you're making a puddle on my chest." He nudged his brother's stomach.

"Mmph, no tickling, Fox." Robért mumbled, curling up around Erik.

"Robért, if I don't get to the bathroom in the next five seconds, I will be thoroughly angry."

The fawn lifted his head and blinked, " . . . because you'd wet the bed?"

"You are infuriating, get off!" Erik tried to throw Robért off but the younger teen was a bit stronger than Erik, much to his chagrin, and was able to remain firmly planted on his stomach.

"No, I'm comfortable." Robért teased, jabbing Erik's sides.

"Hey! No tickling, you just said that!" Erik bucked and Robért was flung to the side, Erik got up, "Cheater."

"Shouldn't I get an advantage since I'm blind?" The fawn grinned and got up, hurrying out the door.

"Maybe if you actually _acted _blind you would!" Erik ran after him, "No! Fawn, I-"

The bathroom door closed and locked.

"Go downstairs."

"I liked it better when you were small and helpless."

"I liked it better when you were fun and not grouchy in the morning."

Erik groaned and went downstairs.

* * *

"So . . . " Erik grimaced, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he was no good at small talk it would seem.

Jacqueline smiled prettily and reached over to touch Erik's hand, "Erik?"

Erik jumped as if struck, "Yes?"

"I don't really want to be hurried into this either, it's very awkward. I liked it better when it was just all of us friends together. This feels so . . . _forced_. You know?"

He nodded, "I know what you mean, I like you- that is, I like spending time with you. Not to say that I don't find you very attractive and interesting, er, I mean you're pretty and I like that about you- but not just that! I . . . am an idiot." Erik groaned and closed his eyes, he was trying to impress this girl, hoping that everything would turn out alright and he would be allowed to be in love and she would want him that way too.

"Well, I do believe there was a compliment in there somewhere so thank you." She smiled prettily again, that way where she pouts her lips a little and looks up at him through her eyelashes.

Erik smiled awkwardly, "I do think you're beautiful."

"And you're quite fetching yourself." She smiled with her teeth now, her perfect, straight teeth.

After that first nervous exchange everything went fine. More than fine. In fact it was-

* * *

"Fantastic." Erik smiled as he related the story to Philippe later.

"Did you kiss her?" He asked, eyebrow raised and he grinned knowingly.

"For pity's sake, Philippe, no!" Erik grimaced, "Give me time!"

Philippe shrugged, "Well I thought I'd ask."

"You like her so much, you kiss her." Erik muttered, then regretted it when Philippe stroked his barely-there mustache, "Phil, no-"

"Not a bad idea, really."

"Philippe, no, she's mine!" Erik stood up angrily and turned to his friend, though how long they would be friends after such a remark, Erik was unsure.

"Oh is she? Well, I don't see her on your arm and you haven't kissed her yet. What's to stop me from giving you a little competition?" Philippe grinned wider and stood as well, brushing past Erik as the masked man fumed.

"I do not _need _any more competition than I already have! Stay out of this!" Erik snapped, moving closer to the blonde boy, "You keep your nose out of my business!"

"Hmm, touchy. I may just have to do something to hurry you along." Philippe kept his aggravating smile on his face despite how menacing Erik was desperately trying to be.

"No, please, Phil, I beg of you," Erik said quickly, hoping to garner some sympathy if threats wouldn't work, "Please, this is hard enough and why she would want you over me is obvious enough without your interference."

"Me over you? Are you daft? You're a genius and I'm just Phil." Philippe laughed, patting Erik's left cheek lightly, "Don't worry your little head, Erik, I'll behave and stay out of your affairs."

Erik resented being patronized but sighed and nodded, "Thank you, Philippe."

* * *

Erik spent a lot more time with Jacqueline after that, probably more than he did with the de Chagny boys or even Robért, much to his brother's growing disappointment, but Erik didn't care at that time, he was discovering that Father was _very _correct about this love business, it was very worth it.

Jacqueline leaned against his chest, her head on his shoulder and it was lovely. He bent his head down and kissed her mouth gently and she allowed him, returning the gesture willingly.

"I love you." He murmured, he'd never said it to her before but perhaps this was acceptable to say after courting a girl for five months.

She smiled up at him, "And I love you, Erik."

Erik smiled happily and ran his hand slowly through her thick, dark curls. This was so nice, they were finally alone for a moment in Erik's Solar, Father had given the fawn strict instructions to not bother Erik and Jacqueline and then had gone to his study, most likely asleep in his chair with a book propped up on his stomach by now. They were very much alone. Erik leaned forward and could smell her perfume, something rather flowery and sweet.

Jacqueline slowly turned around, "You know, we are alone."

Erik nodded, "Unless Robért has gotten better at spying, yes, we are."

"All alone." She said, putting her hands on his chest.

Erik's eyebrow arched slightly, "Um, yes, I know."

"But we're alone _together_, Erik." Jacqueline said, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

Erik's heart thudded loudly in his chest, "Uh, well yes but I don't understand what you- . . . oh."

He looked down at her hand as it slipped up the in-seam of his trousers; he leaned back a bit, feeling his body getting much too warm. Jacqueline leaned forward, kissing his neck and breathing in his ear,

"It isn't like we won't be together forever, Erik. I want you and I know you want me."

Erik took several strained breaths as her hand touched him, "I- J-Jacqueline, what are you doing?"

"We could be with each other, intimately, you know? We aren't children, Erik." She smiled, reaching up and undoing the lacing of her bodice.

Erik's eyes widened and he felt his mouth dropping open as she let her dress fall to the floor and at the same time he felt his trousers becoming much, _much _too tight and he was sweating. He reached his hand out tentatively and when she didn't stop him but moved closer he ran his fingers slowly over her breast. Jacqueline made a little noise in her throat and started to blush,

"It's alright, Erik, I want this." She murmured, moving to sit in his lap, her hand moved to start undoing his pants.

Erik closed his eyes while her small hand touched him and suddenly breathing was taking more effort than he knew was probably necessary. He was about to ask her what he was supposed to do when her lips met his and this felt so good and so right and he wanted it desperately, but then she said something that pulled him from the hazy lust he was drifting in, bringing him ever so slightly back to the present,

"Let's get this silly mask off. I don't know why you-"

Then it was pulled off and Erik's eyes opened when he heard her scream.

* * *

Erik huddled in the corner of his bedroom, he could only imagine what his father had thought when a half-naked young woman ran screaming down the hallway babbling about monsters and had to be calmed down enough to get dressed again and then the carriage was called that would take her home with one of the maids accompanying her in her hysteria.

Erik had fled the Solar, quickly getting his clothes into some semblance of order then ran, hiding away in his room.

The door opened and he heard heavy footsteps moving into the room just inside the doorway,

"You _lied_ to me." Erik grit out; his head still buried in his knees with his arms wrapped protectively over his head.

"Erik, what happened? What did you do? You didn't _attack _her, did you?" This was the first time Erik had heard Father speak in a tone that was so much fear and anger at the same time that it was impossible to tell what exactly he was feeling and Erik couldn't find the energy to even care.

"She initiated and I tried to go along with it then she took off my mask. You _lied _to me. It isn't worth it, isn't worth _this_! I should have known better! I shouldn't ever fall in love because people are _all _like this! Everything is fine until they see my face!"

Erik heard Damien move more into the room, "Erik-"

Erik flinched away, "Don't! Don't touch me, don't tell me you're 'sorry' and that not everyone is 'like this'! Don't patronize me and tell me that there's someone out there for me! You lied to me, Father!"

"I didn't lie!" Damien said frantically, moving closer only for Erik to lash out at him.

"Yes you did! No one can see me or hear me! She said she loved me and one look at my face and she ran screaming just like I said she would! _She said she loved me_!" Erik shouted, standing up and starting to pace, tearing at his hair and breathing heavily.

"Erik, please, tell me what happened." Damien sat down, at a total loss for what to say or do.

Erik stopped to stare at Father, his face burning with emotions he couldn't even put a name to. He was angry but also sad and his chest felt too tight and his stomach hurt and his hands were sweating. Erik couldn't understand any of this and he couldn't fathom why Father had lied to him, if this was a prank it had gone way too far, though Erik doubted it was a joke at all.

"There's nothing I want to say to you, please get out of my room and leave me be."

Damien blinked in shock at how monotone Erik was and what he'd just said, but Damien sighed and nodded, "Alright, Erik, I'll leave you alone. If you do want to talk to me, I'll be in the study."

"I don't think I will want to talk about this. Ever."

* * *

Erik didn't speak of it to anyone either, he refused to speak to Robért about what happened, declined to go to the de Chagny's, the opera, or anywhere for that matter. He wouldn't eat meals with the family and was generally absent. No amount of enticements would get more than a monosyllabic, deadpanned response from him.

"Papa, what's wrong with Erik? He . . . he told me to go away again." Robért asked, he was heartbroken, he used to spend all his time with Erik and his safe place with his brother was slowly being taken away every time he'd go ask to be let in and Erik would dismiss him so easily. He had even resorted to just sitting outside the door and waiting in case Erik came out, this never happens but he kept trying.

Damien looked slowly around at Robért and sighed, "Come here, le faon."

Robért slowly moved across the room to where Father was sitting in the Solar, "Papa, I don't understand. I thought everything was going well! Why won't Erik come out? Why is he so angry with me?"

"It . . . it isn't you, Robért, it's Erik." Damien put his hand on his son's back, directing the boy to sit next to his feet, "He's just . . . going through some things right now."

"What kind of things, Father?" Robért put his head on Damien's knee, biting his lip.

Damien sighed heavily and shook his head, "Jacqueline . . . rejected him because of his face and he's dealing with that now. He's depressed, Robért, and he doesn't know how to deal with it."

"But . . . but whenever one of us is sad we all work together to make it better. So, then why is he shutting me out?"

"I can't answer that, Robért, we must just be patient and wait for Erik to open the door on his own." Damien sighed again and felt very tired and at a loss, he had no words left for Erik, no amount of comforting or consoling seemed to fix this and he couldn't find the energy to even try anymore. He was met with silence and a locked door every time he attempted to speak to Erik, not that he didn't know why, Erik had felt that Damien had lied to him and that was more than enough reason for Erik to close them both off.

* * *

"Erik?"

" . . . "

"Erik, please don't do this . . . " Robért leaned on the door, his forehead pressing into the cold wood.

" . . . go away."

"No. I don't know what happened and I don't care. Just . . . please come downstairs and play the piano or read to me. Anything!"

"I'm not coming down, leave me alone."

"Erik, please, I'm begging you, please don't let the music die, I need it! I crave it, it's the only way I've ever been able to truly see the world! Please, don't take that away from me too!" Robért felt his chest tighten and tears rolled down his face and onto the door, "Please . . . please Erik . . . if you love me at all, let me see the world again . . . I don't like being in this darkness."

" . . . make your own light for once."

Robért pulled away from the door in shock and shook his head, his mouth opening and closing but his throat felt like it was closing and he couldn't breathe, suddenly he wasn't as sad as he was angry and his fist slammed into the door, cracking the wood a little,

"You bloody selfish, pathetic, cowardly bastard! Fine! Rot in there for all I care! I don't need you, I didn't need you before Father brought your wretched self into this house, I don't need you now! I hate you!"

With that Robért staggered down the hallway trying to hold himself together enough to make it to his own room before dissolving into hiccuping sobs.

* * *

Erik leaned against the door then nodded grimly to himself, that took care of them both then. No one would miss him. He sat at his desk and picked up a shard from his shattered mirror again, touching one of the sharp sides to his thumb and closing his eyes, they would be better off just forgetting him. There was no reason for him to exist, he'd thought at one time there was some reason he was alive, that he would find his purpose for all the heartache and pain he was in constantly but no, there wasn't some grand plan for him. He had loved Jacqueline, he'd restrained himself enough so he wouldn't destroy the beautiful thing they were creating together and he'd succeeded, letting her make the first move.

And did she ever make it! He'd felt something he never thought he could and he thought she loved him, that she really did and she would love him and his face and, like she'd said, it wasn't like they weren't going to be together forever. They didn't make it to forever and it was entirely his fault. Her love wasn't strong enough and it turned out that neither was his heart.

It was broken. Shattered and obliterated with pieces missing, all the things he'd cared about seemed to wither and pale when he thought of that one moment where he thought that he was entitled to love and that he would be given it without question. He should have known better than to trust anyone who spoke of that wretched emotion: love. It was a lie, it was all a great big prank, the worst trick of any to ever be pulled by anyone. She said the words and he was a fool to even think they meant anything.

"I'm an idiot." He murmured, rolling his sleeves up, "I should have been killed at birth, would have saved myself and everyone else a lot of trouble and nightmares."

He looked up at the broken mirror, at the few, fractured pieces left that made his image repeat itself over and over as if to mock him by giving him someone to talk to, who wouldn't look away.

Erik pressed the mirror shard to his wrist, taking several deep breaths and feeling himself shake as he dug the shard in further until the skin gave way. He gritted his teeth and held in a pained whimper as he pulled the jagged piece slowly through his skin.

Pain lanced up his arm and he gasped as blood began to soak his sleeve where he'd rolled it up on his forearm and then down into his lap, gushing out with every heartbeat. He sat and watched it for a while; he'd cut himself before now but never this deep . . . he bit his lip and moved to do his other wrist but his hand wasn't working correctly and he started to panic as his head started to get light-headed and sick, he couldn't pass out before he did the other wrist!

Erik tried again but he was shaking too badly to get a good grip on the glass and his vision started to blur. He didn't realize he was falling backward off the chair until his head slammed into the floor and what little consciousness he had left was knocked right out of him.

* * *

Crying. He could hear crying but not much else, his head hurt so much and he couldn't seem to open his eyes but he knew he could hear crying, right next to his ear it would seem.

" . . . hmph." Erik tried to open his eyes, realizing he'd failed in killing himself.

"Erik? My god, can you hear me?"

It was Father . . . he tried to open his mouth and speak, to apologize for failing at this too, tried to tell him that he shouldn't cry like that . . . but nothing came out, he was so tired . . .

"Erik, you little fool, what were you thinking . . . this isn't the answer . . . she isn't worth your life."

Erik wanted to tell Father that it wasn't for Jacqueline or anyone, that it was for Erik, that Erik was tired of being in pain and fear, that he just wanted it to end, that he wanted to be free from how much he despised his own face and to tell him how he just wanted to escape.

"You scared the hell out of us . . . we almost didn't make it to you in time . . . my god, what were you _thinking_?"

Then there were hands, large warm hands clutching at Erik's hand, squeezing it lightly and Erik felt something constrict in himself and his eyes finally seemed able to obey him and open ever so slightly. Erik was in his bed with bandages on both forearms, Damien was in a chair next to the bed and the fawn . . . dear god the fawn was curled up next to him, his face covered with tear stains and the boy had obviously cried himself to sleep. Erik slowly looked at Father, blinking slowly and tiredly at him,

" . . . I thought . . . " Damien tried to swallow or clear his throat, "I thought we'd lost you, Erik."

Erik grimaced and closed his eyes again, " . . . why didn't you let me die?"

"Because, you stupid child, you're worth fighting for, that's why." Damien said, tears creeping into his voice, "You're important and we love you and for some bizarre reason we won't let you go without a fight."

"I want to die, Father . . . " Erik shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks, "I _want_ to die."

"Don't say that, Erik, dammit! What must I say or do to convince you to stay? What more can I tell you of our love and family to let you know that we want you here with us? How can I show you that you deserve to live? Erik . . . why are you so bent on your own destruction when I could hand you the world on a plate and it would count itself lucky to be yours? I don't know what to do, so help me, enlighten me, what do you need? What am I doing wrong? Have I missed some vital message that you were trying to send me? Please . . . tell me where I failed." Damien didn't even bother to wipe the tears from his face.

Erik blinked at Damien, "It . . . it isn't your fault."

"It must be, blame me, please, blame me! Curse at me, yell, throw things, tell me it's my fault, that I'm the one that doesn't understand. Let's go back to that stage . . . but please . . . don't hurt yourself again." Damien put his head down, sobbing freely.

Erik stared in shock, he reached out his hand and touched Damien's shoulder, " . . . Papa, please don't cry . . . I thought, things would be easier this way."

Damien held onto Erik's hand tightly and looked at him, shaking his head, "Losing you would have broken us beyond repair, renard . . . how could you think it would be easier?"

"I meant for me." Erik whispered, "Papa, I can't live like this, this face . . . whether it bothers you or not, it bothers me. I can't go anywhere without a mask to hide it and I fear that no one outside of this house will understand or accept it. I'm afraid of ever showing anyone this face ever again. I don't want to live my days trapped in this mask but . . . how else can I exist?"

Damien shook his head and licked his lips, "I know you think I lied to you, but love is worth it and I wasn't just talking about the love of some girl, whoever she may be. You can't trust everyone with your secret, that much is true, but not everyone will see the mask. Erik, I promise you that I love you and would never let harm befall you if I can help it, but broken hearts and wasted love are part of growing up. You think I do not understand the pain of losing what you thought was love? Erik, I put my wife away because she was hurting us all, not just herself. What Jacqueline did could be expected if you gave her no warning, did you tell her why you wear a mask?"

Erik bit his lip, " . . . no."

"Then how can she, a young woman barely eighteen who knows no more of the world then her front yard, be expected to be as understanding and accepting of you as we are? We've been with you for nearly a decade of your life, Erik, we love you unconditionally and are used to you. She had no idea what to expect."

"So it was my fault."

"No, Erik, it was still hers for fleeing like she did, especially when she claimed to love you, but that wasn't love, Erik, I'm not sure what it was." Damien rubbed his forehead tiredly.

Erik hiccuped, "It . . . It was real to _me_."

Damien looked up and put his hand on Erik's head, stroking his blondish-brown hair, "I know, dear one, I know and I'm so sorry you were put in that situation and that you thought you had to die to escape that pain, but it's over and we can only try to become stronger from this experience and-"

"I wrote the opera." Erik said, cutting Damien off.

"What?"

"For Fawn, I wrote it like I promised. It took me several days but it's as close to finished as I could get it." Erik closed his eyes and pointed at his desk, "I left it for him."

Damien got up and went to the desk, picking up the hefty manuscript, "This is . . . rather extensive."

"It still needs work, a lot of work, actually, but I wrote most of it." Erik murmured, feeling suddenly very tired.

Damien slowly flipped through it, "Well, it's certainly- . . . Erik?"

Damien closed the heavy folder and went to stand next to the bed then sighed when he saw that Erik had fallen asleep, he reached down and stroke the boy's soft hair,

"You are an enigma to me, Erik . . . truly you wrestle with pain and loss everyday but you yearn for love so wholeheartedly that it's agony to watch you struggle so . . . Erik, my Erik, whatever shall I do with you? Sleep well, may your dreams be sweet and full of music, my little prince." He leaned down and kissed his eldest son's forehead then went to the other side of the bed and lifted Robért up, pulling the covers down and then settling the younger boy back down, tucking him in, "Can't you see how desperately we need you? You've held us together these past eight years, without you, we'd fall apart."

With that he turned and left the room with the opera under his arm.

**A/N: . . . to say I am sorry would be a lie. And I am many things but a liar is not one of them. If you did not realize it yet, this is my message to anyone out there, this is what suicide looks like, take it from someone who has been on both sides. I love each and every one of you, and I'll tell you why: you are reading this fic and whether you're mopping at your eyes with your sweatshirt sleeve or angry that Erik could even think to do something like this proves that you are indeed a wonderful person because you feel such love and sympathy for someone who does not exist but lives in each of us. Erik is the symbol of pain and love and triumph in adversity and because of the Phantom of the Opera, I made it through high school and am where I am today some five years or so later thanks to that soundtrack and movie and play. I fell in love with Erik the same as all of you and he became our hero. I wrote this fic for NaNoWriMo certainly, but I also wrote it for every one of you. Thank you for reading this and I will give him a happy ending or perhaps a new beginning, but not yet, he still has quite a bit of growing up to do. RnR please and I love you.**


	10. Of Portfolios and Flirtations

**A/N: To all of you that sent me such heatfelt notes, thank you. To you who fave/follow this fic, thank you. To you who have reviewed, thank you. This is by far the LONGEST chapter I have ever written at a whopping 6,700 words exactly (before editing of course). This is for you. This story has become my most popular and it just started out as something I was going to start and end in November for NaNoWriMo, but I think it will take a bit longer than that to finish. RnR if you would be so kind and add to the reasons for why I write.**

The next few weeks were difficult, to say the least. Erik recovered from his . . . episode, but he kept to himself mostly, he didn't want to go anywhere or meet up with his friends. He was adrift in the world, not certain of anything anymore, he wandered the hallways and carried on with his life as he had done before but with a pensive, introspective look on his face.

Damien sighed as he sat back in his high-backed chair next to the fire, he thought it amusing how often he ended up there during the day, truly starting to get old if he spent his day reading by the fire. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and closed his eyes, Erik was not thriving at all, Damien had handed him back the opera he'd started but the boy hadn't really seemed interested in it at all beyond thanking him for its return then placing it on the shelf to gather dust.

"Why write it then?" Damien asked himself, shaking his head again and standing, "Time to meddle in my son's life again it would seem."

He made his way to the Solar where both Erik and Robért were sitting amongst the flowers, the fawn was talking animatedly while the fox half listened; nodding his head and giving monosyllabic answers while staring out the window at the rain,

"I don't know, Fox, what do you think?" Robért turned and tilted his head at Erik.

Erik shrugged, then, realizing that the blind boy couldn't see the gesture, sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "I don't care."

"Yes, I get that feeling often." The fawn muttered.

Erik opened his mouth to retort then saw Father standing in the doorway, "Yes?"

Damien leaned on the doorjamb, "I was just thinking that it's been some time since we've been to the theater and perhaps I should procure us some tickets to the next opera."

"I think that's a good idea," Robért smiled, looking around in Erik's direction, "You'll come with, won't you, Erik?"

Erik blinked slowly then sighed, "I suppose if you want me to go, I could."

"Then it is settled." Damien nodded, "Erik, would you mind coming with me to my office?"

Erik stood up slowly and followed Damien, once in the office Damien sat down behind his desk and nudged a leather folder forward,

"Here."

"What is it?" Erik asked, picking up the folder and undoing the clasp.

"A portfolio. Erik, I'm getting older; don't give me that look, young man, I'm being serious, I am getting older and before long it will be time for you to take over the family estate and businesses. That right there is the beginning, your own copies of all the information of our shipping companies. I've already gotten you set up to start working with the captains of my ships and looking over the numbers and figures with my quartermasters."

Erik's eyes widened slightly and he opened his mouth but was quiet for a moment as he flipped through the pages, "But . . . shouldn't this go to your natural-born son? I'm adopted, Father, surely my standing in the family isn't strong enough legally to hold the position as head of the company?"

"That sentence alone is why I know this will be fine. Erik, while I would wish Robért to be involved, let's face it, a blind man isn't safe in the working world, you are cunning and intelligent, shrewd, not to mention suspicious of everyone."

"I thought that was one of my faults?" Erik's eyebrow rose slightly.

"In social settings, yes, in the business world? Your greatest asset. You know when someone is playing you false and you're clever enough to turn it to your advantage. I know you well enough to trust everything to you." Damien smiled, nodding to the folder, "And that is just the beginning as I said."

"But . . . what about Fawn?" Erik asked, closing the folder and looking at his father.

"Of course I want him involved in the family business and I know he will be useful to you, but you as the elder brother must be the head of this venture. Robért is kind and a follower, Erik, it is just in his nature, thankfully he is not a jealous sort or spiteful, I have already discussed this with him and he has agreed that he would rather you run the company and he sit with his flowers." Damien stood and moved to pour himself and Erik a brandy, he handed his son a drink and stood next to the fire, "This does not mean he will be a lump and not be useful, he is to attend meetings with you and assist in decision making. And, when the time comes, I would like you to pick a suitable woman for him to marry."

Erik choked on his drink and sputtered, coughing harshly, "W-What?!"

Damien's eyebrow rose in amusement, "That is unless he were to find someone before I die, Erik, relax."

"Why are you putting all this responsibility on me now?" Erik asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Damien shrugged, "You're not a child anymore, Erik, though you tend to act like one at times, and very soon you'll be a man in every sense of the word. It's time to grow up. To step into the world prepared to take it by storm in any way you can. I believe that beginning now is late for some but you'll catch up before you know it and besides, you weren't ready before."

Erik set his glass on the desk and stared at the folder, " . . . and if I don't want it?"

Damien sighed, finishing his drink and going to get another, "Then sell it. I do not mean for you to be grounded by anything, Erik, let alone a company that has been in this family for a mere two generations. I have wealth enough for you to live comfortably, but only for a time. You have a choice to make; either take up this mantle and sit in my place or find your own way, just be certain you know what you are doing. You are not the only one you need to look after, Robért relies upon you in more ways than one and will need you to be there for him."

"What about the music?" Erik asked softly, tracing the family crest with his finger.

"What of it?" Damien turned and held his refilled-drink in his hand, tilting his head.

"Do I have to give it up if I take this?" Erik didn't want to look at Damien at that moment.

"I had no inclination that you wished to pursue music as a career."

" . . . Well, I . . . would like to." Erik murmured, biting his lip slightly.

"In what sense, Erik? Are you ever going to finish your opera or write a symphony? Are you going to chase after it then leave it as you have these last few weeks? I have had the thought that you lost your passion for the music and theater considering you seem to have lost your passion for life in general." Damien tipped his glass to his lips and swallowed some liquor, keeping his eyes on Erik over the rim of the glass.

"I . . . I'm stuck." Erik murmured guiltily, "I just . . . I need an inspiration or a muse or something! I'm at a standstill with it, like I know what I want from music but it keeps eluding me at every turn. What should I do? I thought before that life alone could be my inspiration but after . . . _her_, I don't feel the same."

"You mean Jacqueline?" Damien sat back behind his desk, steepling his fingers in front of his face, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Erik sat down in Damien's fireside chair and put the folder on the ottoman, " . . . yes."

"You feel that because of her rejection you can't write music?" Damien didn't look at Erik, choosing instead to stare at a ledger on his desk, not really reading it, just staring at the neat lines of writing.

"No, it's because of her love that I can't write music. It's because I felt something so strong, even for the slightest moment, and it was real and _it was mine_! I'm haunted, tormented by that memory, that feeling! I want it! I know if I just could feel that once more even for a little while I would be inspired again! I know I would be!" Erik turned in the chair to lean on the armrest, looking desperately at Damien, "But that's just it, I know I could have it if I . . . was brave enough. But, Father, I'm not. I'm terrified of putting my heart out there again. It seemed like . . . like the music was there, in the air and I could not only hear it but I could smell it and taste it and feel it like never before! It was like warm blanket and I loved it. So, how do I get it again? How do I find it? Where is it?"

Damien leaned on his elbow, tilting his head slightly, "You know if you said that to any young woman on this Earth, she would swoon."

"I'm being serious." Erik muttered, pursing his lips.

"As am I, Erik, as am I." Damien stood, "It _is_ everywhere, but, as you said, you need to be brave enough to indeed put your heart out there again. It may get broken, but that's a risk we _all_ take, whether or not we are different from other people."

"But, Jacqueline was the only girl I knew. Aside for Philippe's younger sisters, that is. So, how does one go about finding others?" Erik leaned back, "There isn't a whole lot of time at operas for socializing."

"Well then you'll just have to spend your time elsewhere, hmm?" Damien smiled.

"Father, whenever you get that look on your face I know you've come up with an idea I'm going to hate." Erik said warily, leaning back in the chair.

"Parties, Erik, all the fashionable young ladies are at parties." Damien grinned widely and sat back, bringing up all the invitations he'd gotten the last month alone from old friends.

* * *

"So, what's a 'coming out' party for then?" Robért asked, sitting back on Erik's bed.

Erik was lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, he rolled onto his stomach and groaned, "Another plan Father has devised to slowly kill me with boredom and misery."

"Erik, don't be so melodramatic." Robért reached over and thwacked Erik in the back of the head.

"It's a party a family has when their daughter turns 18 and is therefore eligible for marriage, they're all the rage these days. Apparently, Father believes that this is the best time to shove us both out into the world in hopes we'll stop lounging about the house, get married then have loads of noisy children." Erik muttered into the duvet.

The fawn flopped over on top of Erik resting his hands on Erik's head and putting his chin on them,

"Hmm, marriage? I never actually thought of it before but it does have its . . . perks."

"You're less a fawn now and more an ox, get off." Erik tried to shove Robért off his back which turned into a pseudo-wrestling match but Erik won in the end because Robért lost his grip and got tangled in the duvet.

Erik sat down on top of his brother and leaned over,

"Anyway, why do you want to get married? What perks are you talking about?"

The fawn snorted and tried to unseat Erik, "Let me up, alright? I can't breathe."

Erik smirked and shifted to sit back on the bed, watching his younger brother untangle himself and huff as if the answer was obvious,

"Sex."

Erik's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, "What would _you _know about that? You're seventeen!"

Robért stuck his tongue out, "I'm only a year and three months younger than you! Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I'm stupid too. Besides, unlike you, I'm not an ass, people actually talk to me and like me."

"Whom are you talking to then?" Erik crossed his arms, still aghast that his _younger _brother might know something he didn't.

"Matilda and Rosette. See? I talk to girls and they tell me things. And also because I'm blind you seem to think that I don't get romantically involved with the opposite sex." Robért slicked his short black hair back with his hand and smirked.

" . . . are you serious?" Erik slumped, defeated by this thought.

"Well it isn't like I've whored myself out," The fawn shrugged, then blushed, "You . . . won't tell Father, will you?"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't?" Erik had half a mind to go and be the big brother and tell Father anyways.

Robért sighed, "Look, Erik, you get everything, alright? You get the company, the estate, the money, everything. I'm just supposed to be the good little brother and come along for the ride, I know all this because Father told me his plans and you get it all. I get to live in the house and follow you around like always." He looked down at his lap and licked his lips, "Like a good, faithful dog."

"Father said you were fine with the decision." Erik murmured, putting plans for blackmail aside for now, there were more important things at stake now.

The fawn looked up angrily, his face twisted and his hands clenched into fists, "Of course I said I was fine with it! What else could I say? You're the favorite, the capable, smart older brother! You're talented and going places! I can't even read . . . or write . . . I know things but I can't apply them. You have music and art and all the things I wish I had. I _am _jealous of you, you know? Forget your damned face, I just want to be able to see. I want to look out the window and see all the things I should be able to see . . . if not for the accident."

Erik blinked, "Father said you were blind from birth. What accident?"

"Well, not really an 'accident', she did it on purpose." Robért sighed, "Erik, I've known my mother was in an asylum for some time now, Father thinks he's clever and that he's kept it from me, but I have ears and whispers and rumors carry as easily as change in your pocket. He put her away because she hurt me, she did something to me and from then on, I've been blind."

Erik's eyes widened, "Fawn . . . what did she do?"

"According to what I gathered from the staff that was here when I was a baby, she picked me up from the crib and said 'he won't stop looking at me'." The fawn looked at Erik, "Apparently she got hold of some caustic substance and used an eyedropper to put it in my eyes. It's her fault I can't see, she took my sight away and it's been dark ever since."

Erik shook his head, "I . . . I'm sorry, he didn't tell me that."

"I know, I think Father is . . . sorry and angry that he didn't do something sooner. I think he wanted to try and fix things, to save her but she was gone long before then." Robért sighed heavily, " . . . I don't know why she hated me so, but she did. And now Father is handing everything over to you and I . . . I'm always just going to be 'le faon' to him because he doesn't want anything to ever hurt me again."

"We'll just change it then, you'll be my partner and we'll work together," Erik put his hand on the fawn's cheek, pressing their foreheads together, "Like we have always been."

Robért smiled and closed his eyes, "I'm glad you're my brother, despite everything, you understand what it feels like to be different."

Erik smiled and nodded, "Now, about that girl . . . "

"Oh alright!" The fawn threw his hands up, "I didn't do anything with a girl, alright? There, I said it, you ass."

Erik laughed, "Good! I was afraid you'd gotten ahead of me!"

"Phht, at the speed you're going, I'd die an old virgin and still be ahead of you!"

"You take that back!"

"Make me!" Robért grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Erik, missing completely.

Erik grabbed the pillow and started thwacking the fawn about the head with it, "I'll make you regret that!"

They dissolved into out of breath giggles after a short, mostly one-sided pillow fight, and Erik groaned,

"Oh, we still have to go to that party . . . "

Robért groaned, "Father is determined to make us be social, isn't he?"

"Yes, it would seem so." Erik murmured, reaching over and ruffling the little ox's hair, "I'll have to start calling you le bœuf from now on."

"You start calling me 'Ox' and I'll call you vieux chat." Robért threatened.

"You call me _that_ and I'll come up with the nastiest pranks to play on you!" Erik growled, moving to sit on Robért's stomach.

"Oof, you're right, more like éléphant graisses!"

"I am not fat!" Erik snapped, smacking the fawn about the ears a bit, but it was all in play.

Robért laughed and managed to grab both of Erik's wrists, "I knew this would work."

"What?" Erik stopped trying to twist his wrists free and looked at Robért, "Knew what would work?"

"I had to do something to get you back to normal . . . after you- well . . . after the other day, you've been so . . . not there." Robért easily sat up, moving Erik's weight onto his lap, he really was bigger than Erik.

Erik bit his lip and sighed, "I . . . I know, I'm sorry I just, I've had a lot on my mind, you see. A lot to consider and think about."

"All good things right?" Robért asked, letting go of Erik's wrists, "Erik, I don't know how to say this any other way but you die and I'll kill you."

Erik chuckled, "That didn't make any sense."

"But you understand?"

"Yes. Fawn, I'm sorry."

"I know we're flip-flopping between being depressed and giggling here but we've not actually talked a whole lot these past few weeks, well, I talked and you just sat there. Erik, I would've hated for my last words to you to be that I didn't need you . . . if that was how things were left . . . " Robért shook his head, "Fox, you are my best friend and the only person I've ever met that has actually made an effort to be there for me besides Father."

Erik nodded, "We've needed this, laughing and moping together, I'm sorry I made you feel like I wasn't listening but I was and that's why I couldn't bear to speak. I couldn't interrupt or reply for fear of losing what little control I had on my emotions, all I could think of was that I was taking myself away from you and Father, I've never been that cruel as I was that day."

Robért opened his mouth to say something more but,

"We are _leaving_ in twenty minutes and I mean it this time!" Father shouted up the stairs, "I thought you boys were up there getting ready!"

"We are, Father!" Erik shouted back then groaned, "He has the innate gift of knowing when we're stalling."

"He's _our_ _father_, Erik, he has to stay three steps ahead of us otherwise we'd leave him in the dust." Robért chuckled and got up, stretching, "I suppose there's nothing for it, we can only golly-lag for so long before he decides we need help getting dressed."

"You remember when he did that one time? We thought we'd be clever and just not get ready?" Erik smiled at that particular memory.

"If memory serves, he manhandled us both into our clothes then swatted our backsides until it was agony to sit down at that dinner." Robért grimaced, "I don't think I sat down for a week after that, his hands are so _big_."

Erik shuddered, "Not one of our better moments."

"Ah, the folly of youth, eh?" Robért smiled and left the room to get dressed.

Erik shook his head, "You know me a little too well, Fawn . . . and that's probably for the best."

* * *

The party was full of people in a house too small for that many people. Gaggles of the opposite sex in fan-wielding clusters eating chocolates and sipping drinks while groups of young men tried to ignore them and engage in conversation that didn't dwindle into how very aroused they all were.

"You are so tense, someone's going to mistake you for a lamppost."

"Phil, shut _up_." Erik growled under his breath, he kept scanning the crowd desperately for his father, hoping to catch the man's eye and get the 'time check' from him.

"She isn't here, Erik," Philippe said gently, leaning back and drinking his brandy, "She wasn't invited, she's a market-rat's daughter, this is the crème de la crème. So relax and go dance or something."

" . . . " Erik wilted, he hadn't been certain if Philippe had known about Jacqueline's rejection and hasty retreat from the de la Roche house but apparently he did.

Philippe threw his arm around Erik's shoulders, "Eh, this is a party, yes? Let's go have fun! Let's go dance and drink and be unruly! Come on, smile for pity's sake!"

Erik tried on a small smile but it wouldn't stick. Philippe sighed heavily,

"Well, that's a start, I suppose. C'mon, let's go." Philippe grabbed Erik's arm and started to drag him to the crowd of young women near the door, "Excuse me, mademoiselles, but could we two fine, dapper gentleman interest you in a dance?"

Erik grimaced at Philippe's words and looked at him, "What is wrong with you?"

Philippe grinned and elbowed Erik while the girls giggled amongst themselves, hissing out of the side of his mouth, "Play along, you dolt."

"Twit."

"Idiot."

"Moron."

"Simpleton."

"Ignoramus."

"Alright, now you're just making words up." Philippe muttered.

Erik rolled his eyes and was about to go find the poor fawn who was probably waist deep in misery but then two girls stood up, "Ah, you two drew the short straws then?"

One giggled and shook her head, "No, monsieurs, we volunteered."

"Yes, all on our own." The other said, taking Erik's arm.

Erik blinked at the girl as she swept him to the dance floor with ease, smiling up at him, "So, you are Erik de la Roche then?"

"Uh, yes, yes I am. Do I know-?"

"Ah, no, your brother, Robért mentioned you though. He says you're a musician." She smiled, "Oh, but where are my manners, I am Josette Grosvenor. My father owns a successful hat shop in Paris."

Erik raised an eyebrow, "Are you soliciting me?"

"I'm flirting, Erik," Josette smiled smugly, her long hair was twisted into a complicated braid that encircled her head once like a tiara and had ribbons intertwined in it, the scarlet matching her dress and off-setting the lush copper-tones in her auburn hair. Her slightly almond-shaped green eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight, "At least that is what it would be called amongst us brats with wealthy families. You see over there is my mother giving me the sign that I'm doing well. The de la Roche's are quite wealthy, wealthier than my father anyway and this is how my mother hopes to get me ahead in the world. Marry me off to a prominent heir to a fortune. How _clever_."

Erik blinked, "Ah, so this isn't anything to do with me?"

"Just your money, it seems, forgive me." She sighed but kept smiling, "Just smile a bit more and act like whatever I say is the most charming, coy thing you've ever heard."

Erik narrowed her eyes then understood, "Ah, I get it," And he smiled, "Adults are very superficial, don't find?"

"Well, we are adults, dear, but yes, very materialistic. Let's talk about something else, as I said, Robért mentioned you know music?"

"I write, compose, play, and live in it. I also paint and draw, ride horses and sometimes, I do back-flips dressed as a fox during the equinox."

Josette laughed and it was genuine, "Now _that _ I would gladly engage in."

Erik chuckled, "I must seem so drab to you."

"Oh, quite, quite," she nodded her head with a severe expression on her face, "You're putting me to sleep."

"Perish the thought, being a youth of the male persuasion I'd likely take advantage of you." Erik chuckled.

"Oh yes, I've heard about you men, mother told me that young men are controlled by the devil using your loins as reins." Josette said conspiratorially behind her hand.

Erik laughed out loud at that one, "Surely you jest! Don't you know that it's the women we men must fear?"

"You don't say! And why is this?" She widened her eyes comically.

"Why, women are the devil's dollies, he uses them to lure young men to temptation and hypnotize us with their provocative clothing." Erik said in as deep and serious a tone as he could muster.

"But sir, I covered my ankles! I cannot possibly be sinning in this dress!" Josette laughed and soon they were both giggling helplessly, "Oh, I must say, this is far more enjoyable than I thought pretending to be interested in you would be!"

Erik faltered for a moment as they moved away from the dance floor, her hand was still in his but . . . had that just been part of the game to her? Had that entire exchange been her making it look good for her mother? He'd rather enjoyed the banter and wanted to think that it had been real and-

"Erik? Are you still in there?" Josette leaned forward, looking up into his eyes, "You look like you went on holiday."

Erik blinked and came back to himself for a moment then frowned, "Was . . . all that just an act?"

Josette blinked then crossed her arms slightly, "At first it was but you proved vastly more exciting that I anticipated. Why? Was it for you?"

"No, it wasn't." Erik said quietly.

They stood there for a moment more then Josette rolled her eyes and snorted, "Well then?"

"Well then what?" Erik blinked, completely confused.

"Aren't you going to ask to take a turn with me?" Josette waved toward the balcony impatiently, "Really Erik, you're so good at flirting until it comes time to initiate."

Erik huffed indignantly and took her arm, "Well, you seemed to like being the one to take the lead, after all you led the entire time on the dance floor!"

"I did not!" Josette's mouth opened in a perfect O, "I did the lady's part at least a third of the time!"

"More lies!" Erik said dramatically, "What am I to believe if you are not honest about who leads when we dance? By God next you'll be telling me you aren't French!"

"Of course I'm French, where do you think I got this outrageous French name?" Josette stuck her tongue out at him but then laughed, "Besides, your name is 'Erik' a wholly Scandinavian name if my etymology is correct."

Erik nodded, "That's true, I am not French, my father adopted me when I was about eleven."

Josette blinked up at him as they came to stand by the balcony railing, she looked up at the stars and sighed, turning her head slightly to rest on his shoulder, "You were adopted?"

"Yes." Erik swallowed nervously and tentatively put his arm around her, feeling her shiver, "Are you cold?"

"It is a little nippy out here, but I'd rather be out here then in there, so stuffy and hot. Full of giggly, stupid little girls and obnoxious rich boys . . . I'd rather be out here with just you, thanks." Josette nodded to herself decidedly.

Erik blinked, "You didn't answer my question."

Josette looked up at him, "Hm? Oh, well a little cold if I was honest, but since I lead during dancing you can't trust a thing I say apparently."

"Would you like my jacket?" Erik asked, slipping out of his tuxedo jacket without waiting for her reply then slid it onto her shoulders, watching the whole thing engulf her petite frame.

"Thank you."

Erik smiled a little and looked back at the stars, "What else did my brother say?"

"That you are precocious, talented, and kind. He told me that you don't like parties and would rather spend the evening with him at home reading or playing the piano." Josette shrugged, "He wasn't too generous with details."

"What details were you vying for?" Erik raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to look at her.

"Oh, your hat size, favorite drinks, the color of your horse, things like that." She shrugged again.

" . . . you are by far the strangest woman I have ever met." Erik shook his head in amazement.

"Is that a compliment or are you being puerile?" Josette's eyebrow matched Erik's as his arched up.

"Perhaps a bit of both? You're very . . . odd." Erik shrugged, "Why are you so free in yourself? I've met quite a few girls who are some coy, some shy, and others obnoxious or too generous with false compliments. You on the other hand, seem perfectly at ease in my presence and strangely I do not find it . . . insulting."

"Would you rather I be drab and statuesque? Certainly I am a bit of a flake but all jest aside, I find things more interesting when given the right light, don't you?"

"What are we talking about exactly?" Erik blinked and tilted his head slightly.

"I'm talking about how everything that is in there is fake," She pointed back at the party that was still loudly going on behind them, "Those girls are not my friends or my confidants, they are pretty flowers with as much sense as if they were no more than such. They are nice to look at, certainly, but their conversation is boring and trivial and none of them would dance with you because some little tart said you are a hideous monster under that mask."

Erik flinched, trying to think quickly but she beat him to it,

"I thought that the idea you're disfigured in some way is obvious, otherwise why wear a mask? If you had been misled into believing this was indeed a masque then you would have removed your mask before you could be made into a joke but you didn't so I'm assuming that there is a reason and the only conclusion I have is that you do indeed have some sort of deformity. Am I on track or did I completely miss my stop?" She turned to him, pulling his jacket more tightly around herself.

Erik blinked at her in utter disbelief, "Well . . . uh, no, you're on track. I do have . . . some . . . well, quite a bit, of disfigurement under my mask, but I didn't think-"

"That I would be interested if I knew the truth? Please, Erik, I just got done saying how stupid all those girls are, I actually know where the sun rises and sets, if you know what I mean."

"No, actually I don't." Erik stared at her, this girl was so . . . refreshing.

"I mean to say that I'm not stupid, I can put two and two together and miraculously get four. And if you are indeed horribly disfigured, so what? You're a person and all people have flaws no matter how much they do up their hair and plaster make-up on their perfectly piggish noses. I believe that people are attracted to people, not bodies." She stared out at the stars and nodded as if in agreement with herself.

Erik blinked at her and sat down on the railing, he was at a loss for words, "And . . . if I was 'horribly disfigured'? I mean to say that, you wouldn't be abhorred by me?"

Josette rolled her head on her neck and looked at him derisively, "Were you listening to anything I said in the last five minutes or was I talking to that potted plant over there?"

"I'm sorry, I was listening, I just . . . I'm not used to that." Erik looked away, feeling stupid and still in amazement.

"I can see why. People are generally stupid and more worried about the outward appearance and appeal of the thing then the thing itself. Reasons why my cohorts are scarfing down chocolate as fast as they can. And they're not even thinking about trying anything else, I'd get bored of one flavor if it was all I ate."

"Again, I've missed what you're saying. You really talk circles around me."

"Oh, sorry, I suppose I meant that as a metaphor of sorts, where the girls are just eating all the chocolates without trying to find anything different like a cream puff or a cannoli, there's so many wonderful flavors to sample and yet, they're sticking with the one that they know. Do you see now?"

"Ah, yes, I think I understand." Erik smiled, "I think this is the beginning of something special."

"I think so too. Do you ride? Horses I mean?" Josette asked, trying to sit up on the railing next to him, but her dress prevented her, "Oh, blast, this dress is positively incensing!"

"Here," Erik hopped off the railing and stood in front of her, "May I?"

Josette blinked then nodded, "You may."

Erik nodded and slid his hands onto her waist, easily lifting her and putting her up on the railing. Then they just stood there, well, Josette sat, Erik stood, but they were frozen with his hands on her waist and her hands on his shoulders and time fell still. Erik blinked up at her and wanted to trust those lovely eyes, he wanted to be free in them and not worry or care that he was different, he wanted to believe her when she said it wouldn't matter and that his personality was what was attractive, he wanted so badly to just be there in that moment and let the world take care of itself.

He cleared his throat and pulled his hands back quickly, moving to sit next to her, "There."

"Thank you." She said softly, "This is honestly the most fun I've had at a party in a long time. At least, since I've been expected to have conversation and not run about squealing and chasing the boys."

"Oh, that's not what you were doing in there?" Erik grinned at her.

Josette huffed, pouting her lower lip and narrowing her eyes, "Oh hardy-har, Erik, touché, and all that. You're positively droll."

"I try." Erik smiled and sat there, trying to think of clever things to say or compliments that wouldn't sound cliché, then he blinked and looked at her, "So, to answer the question you posed before coming to loggerheads with your dress, yes, I do ride, do you?"

"Well, don't tell anyone, but I do indeed ride." She smiled, "My favorite is after a heavy rain, my boy, Jesper, does so love the puddles and he'll play and splash in them for hours if I don't force his head away. Of course, by then I'm all over with mud! It causes my mother to go into such a conniption to make you think I'd invoked the devil himself."

Erik chuckled, "I imagine you've caused her to go gray as much as I have my father. He'd call me into his office nearly six or seven times a day for some offense or another. Come to think of it, he still does."

"Do boys get into mischief then? Who would have thought?" Josette laughed and leaned her head on Erik's shoulder, "We've only been talking for short moments but I feel as if I've known you my whole life."

Erik shivered slightly and put his arm around her once more, letting her put her head on his shoulder like that and it felt just so.

"I was going to say something quite similar."

* * *

Damien smiled over his wine glass as he sat around the parlor with the other guests,

"Damien, my friend, what of your elusive eldest, eh?" A noble to Damien's left chuckled over his drink, "The one with the mask? Why have we never seen him before a few years ago?"

Damien fixed his peer with a stony glare then smiled, "You know better than anyone that I adopted Erik nearly a decade ago."

"Yes but, why him? Hmm?" Another man leaned forward on the table he was seated at, "You already have a blind son, why another with . . . a defect? Are you running a charity now?"

There was a general chorus of chuckling whether behind hands, fans, or openly. Damien stood up, straightening his tails and gripping the pommel of his cane, "Defect? Charity, sir? Forgive me, but I am confused. Are you insinuating that there is anything _wrong _with my sons? Or is your gaggle of horse-faced daughters making you envious?"

The man stood angrily to his feet, "Now see here, Damien, there's no need to bully my girls, they-"

"Ah, but my sons are the possible target of open ridicule? My, my Etienne, you have a dizzying intellect! Tell me, what is it that my children are that intimidates you all so? Congenial, talented, intelligent, charming and well-mannered? Yes, that would be the difference between my children and yours. And if you ever dare to let even the slightest hint of these prejudices slip within earshot of my boys, we shall have a great deal more to say to each other. Now, my _friends_, the hour is getting late and I fear I am not so young as I once was, if you will excuse me, I believe it is time I retire. Good night to you, Vicomte Mignone, Madame Mignone, I wish your daughter the best on her birthday."

With that he strode out to the main hall where he found Robért speaking with some other young people, mostly girls,

"Robért, where is your brother, it's time we were off."

Robért blinked and looked up, "I don't know, Father, he went with Philippe to go dancing but that was nearly an hour ago."

"Find Philippe then; we find him, we'll find Erik." Damien followed the blind boy until he they found the de Chagny boy flirting with a brunette and her cousin, "Philippe, there you are, have you seen Erik or has he disappeared again?"

Philippe smiled, "He's out there, talking to a girl."

Damien nodded, "Ah, I see, will you go fetch him for me?"

"Alright, monsieur I will." Philippe smiled then hurried out.

Damien waited another few minutes then Erik came in with a girl wearing his jacket, he watched his eldest son take her hand, kiss it then take his jacket, smiling as he trotted to stand in front of Damien,

"Ready so soon, Father? Past your bedtime?" He asked, grinning widely.

" . . . I'll ignore that comment in exchange for some details, tell me everything." Damien smiled, putting an arm around each boy and leading the way to the door and their ride home.

**A/N: TADA! Ahem, I think that entire chapter was chock-full of good feels and witty lines enough to make you all feel warm and fuzzy after the last chapter, yes? We're far from finished with this fic, my dears, rnr!**


	11. Of Boredom and Business

**A/N: Great googly moogly the feeeeeeeeeeels! Agh! Sorry for dwindling into a drooling moron for a moment but holy fangirl! I literally cannot thank you all enough for the support you've given me, I've been going through some really heavy stuff lately with my artwork and some of my original works that are actively being considered for publishing and yeah, this is my de-stressing session, writing this fic and watching the love pour out of it from all of you, thank you so much and I could not express in words alone how much you all have meant to me. Alright, pardon the gushing and enjoy the next installment to Maskless!**

Erik closed his eyes then opened them again, no . . . he was _still_ there, "Phil . . . _what_?"

Philippe threw himself down onto his knees and widened his eyes, "Erik, please, you have to help me! Father is giving me _responsibilities!_ Can you believe it? What ever did I do to deserve this?"

"For pity's sake, Philippe, get off the floor! What is so bad about being taken seriously by your parents for once?" Erik's eyebrow quirked up and he tried to go back to his book, but Philippe pulled it away, "Phil, stop it!"

"Erik, this is _serious_! I need your help! You're smarter than me, more capable than me, you know business and things!" Philippe put the book down on the end table next to the sofa where Erik had been reclining, rather comfortably.

Erik's eyebrow quirked up, "Keep complimenting me and I'll see if I care to help."

Philippe grinned then schooled his features, "Oh, Erik, you're God's gift to the intellectual world! No one can compare to your talent and your sharp wit! Women swoon at the sight of you and men wish they were you! I-"

"Alright, alright!" Erik cried, sitting up and shoving Philippe back when the ridiculous blonde man tried to kiss his hand, "Stop that and tell me what has you in such a bind."

"Well, Mother and Father wished to give me something more to do with my time, you see. They seem to think that I'm not already terribly busy-"

"You? Terribly busy?" Erik snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Socializing and being a-"

"Fop."

"_Gentleman_, takes work, Erik." Philippe glared at his friend, "And anyway, they wish for me to be occupied with other 'more important' things, as they put it."

"Get to the point, Phil." Erik pressed, looking as bored as he felt, Phil could be so melodramatic at times.

"They bought the patronage to the Opera de Populaire and now I'm to be helpful with its management. That's where you come in! You spend more time there then anyone I know and you know how it works and what goes into running it smoothly! That and well . . . I was hoping that maybe you'd . . . " Philippe wrung his hands a little nervously, glancing at Erik from under his eyelashes, "That I'd be able to hire you as a tutor."

"No." Erik stood up abruptly, storming to the door.

"Oh, Erik, please? Please? You've more talent in your little toe than most adults have in their entire being!" Philippe rushed forward, grabbing Erik's arm, "Please . . . please do this for me? I'd trust no one else to it but you . . . please, as a friend?"

Erik sighed, looking at Phil who seemed near tears as he clutched Erik's sleeve then he sighed heavily, it was funny how now they were twenty and yet, Philippe hadn't aged beyond having a thicker mustache, he was and would be ever after, the loveable, irrepressible oaf that Erik had, begrudgingly at times, learned to love, "Oh . . . alright, I'll- ack!"

Philippe lifted Erik up in a bone-crushing hug, "Oh! Thank you, Erik, thank you! I knew I could rely on you! You're my best friend!"

Erik wriggled, trying to get out of Philippe's grasp, "Yes, yes, I'm amazing, now put me down before you crush the life out of me and then what will you do?"

Philippe laughed and put Erik down, "Ah, yes, sorry about that, I'm really grateful though."

"Yes, I can tell." Erik grumbled, straightening his shirt from where it was rumpled and adjusted his braces, he reached for his suit-coat and headed for the door.

The blonde man grimaced, "Sorry . . . "

Erik sighed and shook his head, "Wouldn't have you any other way, Phil . . . a little less whiny perhaps."

Philippe laughed and clapped Erik on the back, almost sending the slighter man sprawling, "Ha ha, and perhaps if you were less moody?"

"Quieter . . . I'd like you to be quieter." Erik shook his head but laughed with his friend as they made for the door.

* * *

Robért sat back at the window, staring at the glass but even if he had his sight, he wouldn't have been able to see through the heavy curtain of rain. Damien sighed and moved into the room,

"Rather gloomy lately, isn't it?"

The fawn didn't turn his head or reply beyond nodding slightly. Damien sat down on the window seat next to the dark-haired boy,

"If you'd wanted to go with Erik, you could have."

Robért snorted, "No . . . I didn't want to go with him, Father. I think he grows weary of me following him around."

"You know that isn't true." Damien said gently, leaning against the windowpane, "Erik loves you very much, le faon, and he enjoys your company."

"Father," Robért lolled his head to the side, looking in Damien's direction, "Please stop calling me that, I'm not a child anymore, you know? And even if he doesn't say as much, I'm not stupid. I know he gets annoyed with me when I encroach upon his attentions."

Damien blinked slowly then slumped a bit, " . . . forgive me, dear one, I forget that you and Erik are getting too old for such things . . . and as to Erik's level of annoyance, I think he's very tolerant with the two of us."

Robért nodded and sighed, "Yes, Father, _tolerant_. Is it wrong to be completely over standing in his shadow? I want to go out and do things! I want to be on my own and not worry over the world! I want to be someone! Instead I'm stuck in this damned house with nothing to do but sit around! I'm bored out of my mind!"

Damien's eyebrows rose slightly then he sighed, "I . . . I don't know, Robért, what do you want to do? Get out, yes, do things, yes, but what kind of things? What are you hoping to get from the world?"

"That's just it, I have no idea." Robért bit his lip a little before continuing, "I feel like there's a door that's been slammed in my face and no matter how I feel around, I can't find the knocker or knob . . . like it will never open and I wouldn't know what to do if it did."

There was silence as Damien considered his son's words, he'd dealt with this sort of discussion before, having a blind child was all a game of guess and pray with what to do and how to handle things. The number of tutors and other resources on how to teach Robért was limited, it was almost a lucky break that he had no memory of ever having his sight as Damien had been told that losing one's sight causes a fair amount of disorientation that can lead to greater injury to the mind and possibly render a person senseless. Whether or not he actually believed all that hogwash was not even up for debate, his son was stronger than given credit for and he'd be damned if anyone thought to say differently,

"Robért, dear, as I have said before, we will find a way." Damien said gently, putting a hand on Robért's shoulder, "I have not given up yet and neither should you."

The silence held on Robért's side of the room for a long moment then he sighed slowly and shook his head, "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, son." Damien scooted closer, desperate for just a small glimmer of hope from his younger child.

" . . . do you love Erik more than me?" Robért asked the question that he feared having answered, he didn't actually want to know if Father loved Erik more even though it would make perfect sense . . .

Damien's eyes widened and he put his hands on Robért's shoulders, turning the boy to face him, "I need you to listen to me and understand that while I love you both very much, I loved you first, my dear child, I was at your birth and I held you when you came into this world and never before or after have I felt such a strong sense of worth than when I became your father. You are my child, _mine_, Robért! Nothing will change that and I could not possibly love anyone or anything more than I love you, I cannot even love Erik as much as I love you because you're that part of me that I brought into the world, you're my own little Adam! Robért . . . why would you think that I would not love you as much, if not more, than Erik?"

"You gave him everything! The Company, the house, the estate, all of it is Erik's when you die! Why, if you love me more, would you hand everything over to my _adopted_ brother?" Robért snapped, standing up and putting some distance between himself and Damien.

Damien sighed and shook his head, "Ah, the inevitable discussion, Robért, somehow I knew you were wearing a painted smile when we discussed this and I can only assume that you spoke to Erik as well?"

" . . . yes."

"Let me put things into perspective for you then," Damien sat back on the seat again, folding his hands in his lap, "If I were to give everything to you as had been the plan before Erik rushed into our lives, I would need to arrange someone to look over everything for you, not with you because what good would that do the person involved? They could lie and cheat you without your knowledge, they could steal right from under your nose and you'd be ignorant to the fact-"

"I'm not stupid!" Robért shouted, crossing his arms as anger started to rise in him.

"No, but people are cruel, heartless, and wholly selfish beings, Robért, I do not trust the human race with a sack of dung anymore than I would with a company as successful as ours has been, yes, Robért, _ours_. As much as it pains me to give you the short end of the stick, if I make Erik the head of the Company and estate, there is no way on this Earth that he will lose out to some 'adviser'. Our Erik is the cleverest of men and twice as shrewd, he would turn more of a profit on the business than even I have these past decades. If he is in charge, I know that you will be taken care of, no one could ever claim that Erik is unfit as they could you, it pains me to say as much, my dear, but it is the horrible truth that if I were not here to protect you, the world would easily pluck you up and toss you aside." Damien sighed heavily and leaned forward, "I trust Erik. I trust you. It is the human race that's going to hell in a handbasket. And that is why I titled Erik my heir, he will look after you when I cannot and I gave him strict instructions to keep you involved within our family as you carry the weight of our lineage and Erik does not. Also, Erik will be fair and make sure that you get what you should of the inheritance and he will keep watch on it so it is not cheated from you by anyone."

Robért was silent for a long moment then he bit his lip, "I . . . I just don't want you to think I wouldn't," He cleared his throat, "I don't think I'd be able to cope if I thought you thought me . . . incapable."

Damien chuckled and stood, amazingly the child was catching up to him in height, "Dear one, I never thought for a moment that you were incapable, you are a brilliant, wonderful boy and you're shaping up to be an impressive and handsome man. Erik adores you and I love you and we are a family, we take care of each other, I'm not writing you off, Robért, I'm simply changing your position to better utilize the unexpected addition of Erik to our family."

Robért sighed and nodded, "You're right, Father . . . I guess I'm just . . . bored."

Damien nodded, "Erik is spending more and more time with Philippe and Josette . . . "

Robért nodded again, closing his eyes, "I don't mind that he has friends and things, that's good, it's just . . . I don't and it isn't a lot of fun sitting around the house with nothing to do."

Damien tapped his chin slightly, tugging on his goatee as ideas whirred in his head, " . . . Robért, I think I have a job for you."

Robért's head snapped up, "You do?"

"Yes, come with me." Damien turned and hurried out the door with Robért in tow.

* * *

Erik sat with his eyes closed then opened them, "No. Higher."

The girl tried and subsequently failed to hit the note, "I'm sorry, sir, I can't."

Erik rolled his eyes, "Then why are you here? Look, go through the exercises I gave you and then maybe you can try again."

The girl blinked at him then nodded, her lips pursed with determination, "I will."

Philippe leaned over the Pit railing, eyebrow arched, "Why are you bothering with her when we have a perfectly . . . _acceptable_ soprano already?"

"If you consider that woman's shrieking and strutting about on stage as 'acceptable', than you need your head examined, I think you're suffering from some form of brain worm." Erik muttered as he gathered up his papers, "Christine is showing great promise and I intend to push her until I'm satisfied that she will either fail or sore far above that Spanish whore."

"Erik!" Philippe's eyes widened, "Language!"

Erik looked at Philippe and snorted, "Oh, Phil, if I didn't know any better I'd say your delicate sensibilities are getting the better of you."

Phil grimaced, his cheeks flushing a bit, "I just don't wish for a debacle over your ambitions. I brought you here to _help _me, not pull the Opera House apart and rebuild it in your own image."

Erik huffed, binding his leather satchel closed, "That may be what it takes to save it."

"Oh, Erik, my Erik, why can't you be a sensible, boring human?" Philippe moaned, throwing his arm over his eyes, "Why must you be the dashing, wonderful man that you are with talent oozing out of every orifice?"

Erik stiffened and turned around to glare at Philippe, "You- . . . what's the use? You asked me to help you and I am helping you, if you do not with for my help, speak now or forever shut your mouth."

Philippe grinned then made like he was stitching his mouth closed and put his arms out on either side of his body emphatically and mumbled something through clenched lips.

"My god, is that all it ever took to keep you quiet?" Erik smiled and shook his head, "Come along, Philly, can't leave you here on your own, Lord above knows you'd probably trip over your own large feet and break your neck and then where would we be?"

Philippe grinned wider and caught up to Erik as the two dashed up an aisle.

"Don't forget," Philippe said before they reached the door, "We have to get Raoul too."

"Oh, almost forgot . . . where is he?" Erik turned around to look about for the young man.

* * *

Raoul sat in misery as Christine and her friend Meg flounced away, he thought Christine was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen and he'd tried to tell her as much but the girl had only giggled at him and murmured to her friend who also laughed at him then they turned and left.

He bit his lip, he was almost twelve and the same age as Christine, but she laughed at him and he knew she'd told her friend that he was 'such a cute little boy' and it stung him, nettled him in fact!

The blonde boy was about to go after her when he heard his name being called, he blinked and quickly hurried to the lobby where Erik and Philippe were both standing waiting for him. Erik was the first to notice Raoul's presence,

"Ah, there you are, not getting up to any mischief, were you?"

"No, Cousin Erik, that's your job." Raoul teased, trying to plaster a smile on his face, he knew the two older men would undoubtedly poke fun at him over this girl.

Philippe laughed and threw an arm around Raoul's shoulders, "Heh, too right you are, little brother! Come on, gents, supper is on me!"

Erik chuckled at his friend's irrepressible joviality, "I should say so, I did all the work and you lolled about in the wings!"

"I did not 'loll' my good sir, I took a respectable look about then napped while you oversaw the-" Philippe attempted.

"Lolling." Eirk interjected, not even looking at Philippe this time.

Philippe glowered at Erik's back then shook his head, grinning again, "Well, it was quite a bit more enjoyable than your job."

Erik looked at Philippe then smiled, "I imagine it was."

Raoul looked up at Erik and Philippe, they were so easy-going and completely oblivious to his plight . . . he was battling the overwhelming feelings of rejection from a girl and they joked about taking naps! Oh, how cruel fate was to grant him such an oaf of a brother and stone-Erik as a friend! Could they not see him aching for Christine? Were they not at all concerned over his silence? It wasn't fair that they would ignore him with talk of food and drink when there was a greater issue hanging over the blonde boy's head; he was desperately in love!

* * *

Erik leaned his head back on Josette's knee, his eyes closed contentedly as she ran her fingers through his brownish-blonde hair, parting it one way then another, her fingers ghosting over the scarring on his temple with each pass. She was humming something that he partially recognized and he joined her in a deeper register, slowly opening his eyes to gaze adoringly at his Josette.

The young woman smiled down at him then leaned forward to kiss his forehead, her eyes closing ever so slightly as her lips brushed his skin. Erik slid to stand and held his hand out to her,

"Dance with me?" He asked softly so as not to break the peace in the room.

Josette smiled and stood, but her eyebrow quirked up in a delicate arch, "And to what music, my good gentleman? You'll find I'm quite clumsy without music to keep time."

Erik tilted his head ever so slightly, "I doubt you could ever be clumsy, my love."

"That wasn't what you said when I tread on your toes at the New Year's party last." Josette teased, sliding her hands to the proper positions.

"It wasn't that bad," Erik chuckled, "I simply had to limp for several weeks."

"Oh, Erik, you are wicked!" Josette laughed as Erik turned her, "And here I thought Mother was just trying to scare me away from you, but it would seem that she was correct, you are a horrible influence."

"Am I? Have you been playing tricks on people without me? That's grounds for nullification to our relationship, you know!" Erik gasped as he turned her to the beat of the music in his head.

"You're right," Josette gasped in mock-sorrow, "It's true! I've been running about pulling pranks on other people with . . . another man!"

Erik growled softly and leaned over Josette, his eyes narrowing, "Tell me of this fiend that would capture my sweet's heart! I shall beat him around the town for such a transgression!"

Josette looked away, pressing the back of her hand to her temple, "Oh, you caught me, it was Spring-heeled Jack! He whisked me away and we played the most wicked, malignant tricks on people!"

Erik shook his head, "Ah, what a horrid woman you are, my love, to run about with men such as him. An English man at that! Have you no sensibility?"

They fell to the couch in fits of giggles after that then Erik frowned, settling into the cushions, "Does your mother really warn you against me?"

Josette sighed, losing the blush that levity had left on her cheeks, "Sadly, she is rethinking her strategy of my advancement. When I told her you were adopted she nearly went out of her head . . . still out of her head if you want my opinion. She . . . doesn't understand and neither does Father . . . "

Erik looked at Josette, he'd planned on marrying the girl the moment they met when they were eighteen, but the long courtship had proven much to their benefit. Josette had instilled a confidence that Erik hadn't known he lacked before. Certainly he was awkward and suspicious at social gatherings and women baffled him but Josette introduced to him a world that made sense, one that wasn't a place of closed doors and masks, but the windows were flung wide to let the air in and music drifted back into his mind. Marriage, that had at one time been a terrifying and tedious venture, seemed . . . almost feasible. And marriage to Josette? He almost started humming again at the thought.

Still, there was the issue of his future in-laws, he had met with them on several occasions for supper and they attended any party that was thrown in the city, but things had gone from trying to unbearable. Erik had found that Antoinette Grosvenor was a shrew, plain and simple, and her husband, Nichol Grosvenor, was, if not more so, as hungry for being upped in society. They wanted their elder daughter to marry into wealth as quickly as possible and thereby propel them into the heights of society and at first, the prospect of Josette marrying the heir to an expansive shipping company like the de la Roche's had was more than desirable. Slowly though, Josette would slip in the misgivings of her mother into their private conversations.

It would seem that all things were forgivable according to Madame Grosvenor until there was remarks as to her own status. Erik's mask was not questioned until after she found he was adopted to which she asked very loudly at a dinner party as to whether or not what Erik had was contagious. The embarrassment that had followed sent nineteen year-old Erik into a depression as rumors surfaced, speculation of Erik having leprosy or some other disgusting skin condition flew through the air.

Josette had of course asked very loudly the next time there was a gathering as to whether people had more intelligence than a pig if they did not notice that Erik was perfectly whole everywhere else and that it was her business if she minded contracting anything he had. Erik had almost dropped to his knees and kissed her feet right there in front of the full table.

Another thing was that Josette had come to Erik practically in tears of anger just a few months ago saying that her mother was wheedling at her over offspring. Erik had, at first, been panicked because if Josette was pregnant . . . well it wouldn't be his. She assured him in so many words that she wasn't, it was just that her mother was trying to discourage her with the idea that if Erik wasn't adopted, there was blindness and disfigurement in the de la Roche family and how would she feel giving birth to a baby with no eyes or a melted face? Once more Erik had flown into a rage, but had refrained from his normal tirade to just hold Josette and listen to her reassurances that she would love whatever they begot because it would be theirs and to hell with her mother and the whole damned world if they didn't love the child too.

Erik was pulled back to the present by Josette's fingers pushing his hair behind his ear, "I've upset you, haven't I?"

Erik blinked then looked at the woman, her large eyes a little watery and he reached out to undo her braid, running his fingers through the long, curling locks then he began to plait it again in a more complex design,

"No, dearest, _you_ haven't upset me, I just . . . I don't know what more to do to prove myself." Erik murmured, he ached to be accepted by the Grosvenor's like he ached for everyone else but this seemed deeper, more important than the world seeing him.

"You've proven yourself to me, Erik," Josette murmured, shifting to sit at his feet, a wholly undignified position as she gathered her skirts around her legs, her stocking-ed feet poking out from under her dress, but then Josette cared more for comfort than propriety, "There is nothing more I can say or do to make them understand that I love you. Perhaps . . . perhaps I shouldn't tell you the things they say? You get upset each time I-"

Erik slid forward, enclosing Josette's slim shoulders in his arms and shaking his head as he pressed his cheek to hers, "No, please, don't hold things from me. You need to talk about them or you'll lose your wonderfully structured mind. These things _do _upset me but it is not as if I am not used to it; I have suffered greater insult than being snubbed by your mother, believe me. And while I would wish them to accept us and our love, I cannot force them to feel any differently than they do. Put yourself at ease, my dear, sweet Josette, and be content in the knowledge that they will not dissuade me from you."

Josette was quiet for a moment then her shoulders shook under Erik's embrace and she covered her face. Erik leaned back in alarm as she burst into heart-wrenching sobs,

"Josette?"

"Why can't they see what I see?" She whispered harshly, pulling her knees up to her chin and burying her face in them.

"Oh, darling . . . " Erik reached forward and pulled Josette onto his lap, hugging her tightly as she put her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder, her long tresses falling down her back.

If anyone were to see them like this, oh, the scandal! Erik shook his head and ran his fingers over her hair, holding the woman he loved to his chest and murmuring gently in her ear, then he had an idea and started to sing, leaning back on the sofa while he held her. He sang ever so gently in his beautiful tenor until her body stopped convulsing with sobs and she settled against his chest, her fingers tracing the planes of his face while he kept singing. Josette closed her eyes and he felt her relax into his embrace, his arms shifting more securely around her and he finished his song listening to her breathing as it became more regular.

Josette shook her head, " . . . can't they see how safe and happy you make me feel?"

Erik blinked then looked at her, " . . . I don't think people are capable of really, truly seeing others' happiness. I think they only see the parts they want to see. I think . . . your parents worry over you and that this is how your mother thinks best to handle it." He sighed and put his head back on her shoulder, "One day soon, I will ask for your hand and then they can't do anything to stop us."

" . . . one day soon, but not today." Josette nodded.

Erik thought over that, Josette had made it quite clear that she didn't wish to rush into marriage, even after being together for two years she did not like to speak on the matter of marriage. She claimed she wanted to know every aspect of Erik before plunging into forever and he was grateful for it. Never again would he hurtle to the brink without looking first.

"I love you." He murmured, pushing every bit of his heart into the sentiment.

Josette smiled, pressing their foreheads together and cupping his face in her hands, "And I love you."

**A/N: Well now, wasn't that fun? I've set up all my little plotbunnies in a row and now I shall pet them each in turn. As you can probably ascertain, we've begun introducing PotO's original plot into the mix, it will make for interesting writing I think!**


	12. Of Mistakes and Broken Pieces

**A/N: Seasons greetings to all! I know this is a little late, I have a tendency to work more during the semester and having the month off for Winter Break means I'm incredibly lazy and play way too many video games. Seriously, I don't even draw or paint a whole lot and I got so much free time . . . I wish I had been able to write you all a happy little X-mas chapter but uh, that didn't happen. This is what happened instead and please don't hate me . . . I'm not one for sappy romances and it really shows. Also, I did not get a chance to PM and thank all of you who reviewed recently, so thank you ever so much, i greatly appreciate how much love you guys are pouring into this fic! Seriously, I don't even have to beg and threaten to get reviews and that means so much to me because I get really disheartened when no one talks to me about my works so THANK YOU from the bottom of my spleen. C8**

Damien sat in his office with Robért, watching his younger son while he carefully moved his pen over the heavy paper. The Comte smiled at his own ingenious planning, leaning forward and putting a hand lightly on the young man's head,

"Yes, that will do very nicely . . . you're catching on very quickly, my dear."

Robért grinned as he moved the rule another inch down the page, copying the same words over and over again. He was practicing writing out formal letters for Damien, he wrote along a ruler so that his lines were neat and he was improving on his letters. His father had come up with the scheme after he grew tired of printing out the same notices over and over for as much as it cost these days for embossed messaging. So, the matter was resolved by buying up stationary then setting his younger son to the task of writing the missives by hand. It was proving quite worthwhile as Robért was contented to sit for several hours until he had each line perfect, it gave him something to do and Damien was quite pleased with himself.

They were sitting in the office when the door opened and Erik strode in, throwing himself down in a chair and groaning loudly,

"Robért, be a lamb and get me a stiff drink, will you?"

Robért blinks, then nodded and made his way to the liquor cabinet. Damien's eyebrows furrowed and he leaned his elbows on the desk,

"And what, my dear fellow, has you so brusque?"

Erik thanked Robért as he was handed a snifter of amber-colored alcohol and took a drink before shaking his head and explaining, "It's the damn opera house and all its silly little inhabitants. You give them simple, precise instructions and can they follow them? Hm? No, no they cannot! They question and argue and bicker, then nothing gets done and I'm blamed for it! I tell them to get a new third bassoon and first trombone and what do they do? Drag their feet and whine about expenses! Ha! Phil is running things and foots the bill for everything so what are they complaining about? It's maddening! And that _girl_! I'm practically setting her in their _lap_ and telling them how talented she's become, how she should replace that prissy, spoiled _poodle_ of a woman but no! No! Can't upset that stupid strumpet and why? Because _her mother is wealthy!_ Oh, I _hate _Phil for saddling me with this! And what's worse, he's _never there!_ The first few times, oh he was so supportive and eager for me to do things but now? He just lets me do all the leg-work and heavy-lifting! It isn't fair!"

Damien sighed, sitting back in his chair, "I see."

Erik blinked, "You see . . . that's all you have to say? 'You see'?"

"Erik, what do you want me to do? This is between you and Philippe, I am not involved in the opera house." Damien shrugged, tilting his head, "You aren't a little boy anymore, Erik, this is an adult matter, so act like an adult and deal with it."

Erik stared at his father for a long moment, finishing his drink then putting it down on the end table, " . . . perhaps you are correct."

"You didn't have to agree to help him, you know." Robért mumbled, immediately regretting it when he hears Erik stand up abruptly.

"You're absolutely _right_, Robért," Erik snarls, grabbing his coat and cane, heading for the door, "I should have taken it from him in the beginning. He has no business in either an office or the arts and I'll tell him so myself."

Damien and Robért both jump when the front door slams behind Erik. Robért bites his lip and fidgets,

"I shouldn't have said anything . . . "

"No, Robért, he would have come to that conclusion in the end anyway . . . Though I have a feeling there's more to this than he's telling." Damien put a reassuring hand on Robért's shoulder, "Don't fret, son, let's go back to work and let Erik deal with things. Come, we have much work to do."

* * *

Erik sat at his desk, scribbling away furiously at some notes for the staff and managers, he was tired of all this nonsense and he would have things done his way or there would be severe consequences. He knew what he was doing and he'd be damned if he was told once more that he was wrong or if they tried to wheedle him out of his decisions.

Erik pressed the seal to the wax then stopped, glancing up at the door, "Ah, Christine, you have impeccable timing, would you be an angel and hand these to whom they are addressed?"

He held the envelopes out to the girl before trying to go back to work but found her presence very distracting, he glanced up at her and furrowed his brow,

"Was there something you wanted?"

Christine licked her lips, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked shyly up at her handsome, rich tutor, "There is something, M. de la Roche."

Erik put his pen aside and breathed out slowly, gathering his patience into a nice, neat little pile and readied himself, "Yes?"

Christine moved slowly around the desk, putting the missives on the desk and she began twisting her first finger nervously, "I was hoping we'd have a session today, as rehearsals are now over and I have nothing better to do, you see. Unless you are terribly busy? I know that you have a lot on your shoulders and if that is so, then forget I ever bothered you with it."

Erik smiled and stood up, putting a hand on her thin shoulder, "I'd be more than happy, my dear."

He was so glad for the distraction, he didn't want to be stuck in the stupid office stewing over how unfair it was that he was doing all this when his paints were drying in their vials and the opera he'd promised his dear little brother was gathering dust. He needed once more to be immersed in music and art and not figures and contracts. He allowed the young woman to lead the way to one of the rooms they used for practicing.

Christine went through her warm-up exercises then began to sing while he played the piano in the corner. Everything was feeling wonderfully peaceful and Erik felt his tension falling away and his eyes closed contentedly while Christine sang in her sweet soprano. Everything was alright, he was alright, and there was nothing that-

Hands. On his shoulders. There were _hands_ on_ his shoulders_.

Erik didn't stop playing right away out of confusion but then, the small hands slid over his shoulders and forward to his chest, soft lips were on his neck and then he stopped and stood up abruptly. He opened his mouth to question what exactly _that _had been about when there were lips on his and he pulled back instinctively. Christine blinked up at him in confusion, his hands still gripping her wrists, although he could not recall ever grabbing them in the first place. They stood like that for a long time in silence as Erik's brain tried to piece together what had just taken place. It was enough time for Christine to pull her wrists free of his slackening grip and move forward, peppering his neck, jaw, and lips with small kisses. Erik recovered and stepped back,

"Christine, I-"

"Shh, it's alright, we don't have to tell anyone." She smiled, her girlish face bright and hopeful, "It would be a scandal if the patron and the chorus girl were sleeping together but I never cared for scandals."

Erik's eyes widened, "Christine, we are _not _sleeping together."

Christine flushed, "Well, not _yet _but we-"

"No, we are _not_." Erik said firmly, pointing an authoritative finger at her.

Christine's face fell, "But, I thought . . . you and I were connected, the music . . . I thought you . . . loved me." Her voice trailed off and tears welled up in her eyes, "I thought you were my Angel of Music . . . "

Erik grimaced, "Christine . . . I-I have someone else in my life right now and we are very much in love."

Christine bit her lip and tears spilled over, she moved forward quickly, grabbing for his hands, "It could be our secret! I swear I would _never _tell anyone! You must have felt like we were destined for each other! You and I and the music! Please, you must!"

Erik didn't know what to do as the girl sobbed and tried to hold onto him until he back into the piano bench and sat down, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him and cried and . . . Erik didn't have the heart to push her away and before he even knew why or how, they were kissing.

* * *

Erik sat on the edge of the bed staring in shock at the far wall, he glanced over his shoulder at the girl lying there fast asleep and guilt welled up in his chest, threatening to devour him from the inside out. He couldn't believe that he'd done what he did, he wanted to run, to hide, to escape the cage he'd put around himself. The never-ending stream of questions blazed in his head and he couldn't find any answers for them.

What would he tell Josette?

How could he tell her?

What would Father think of him?

Why did he do it?

Erik shook his head and tried to hold himself together as he pulled on his clothes, desperate to flee from this room that the very air seemed tainted with his infidelity to his dear, sweet Josette, his other, better half, his equal, his confidant, his everything! How could he betray that lovely, pure woman and lower himself into the bed of this . . . this _girl_? His prodigy, yes, his sure-fire way into public recognition as a genius, yes, but . . . his paramour? Never! She was just a girl of twelve and while she was very pretty and amusing, she did not compare with the wit, flawless beauty and sheer presence of Josette Grosvenor!

Erik quickly pulled on his coat and then froze, glancing around until he located his mask on the bedside table, he scooped it up and pressed it into place on his face, swallowing thickly and then he crept out the door, closing it as gently as he could and hurrying along the passages and corridors of the opera house, taking the quickest, least populated route to the stables. He tacked up his horse and mounted, urging the beast quickly home.

* * *

Damien was already awake when Erik made it back to the house early in the morning. The Comte put his book down and stared at his son who was standing in the doorway, practically trembling,

"Erik, you didn't come home last night, we were worried when you didn't even telephone us. Are you alright, son?"

Erik didn't speak but moved into the room, collapsing at Damien's feet, hugging his father tightly around the waist and breaking down into loud, heartrending sobs. Damien's eyes widened and he tried to get Erik to lift his head but Erik just pushed deeper into Damien's stomach,

"Erik! Erik, what is it, what's wrong? Did something happen? Damn it, Erik, what ever is the matter?"

Erik lifted his head, his eyes so full of anguish and fear, "I-I didn't mean to- I just- she- . . . oh god, Father, I've done something terrible . . . "

Damien's eyes widened then he grabbed Erik by the shoulders, "What did you do? Erik, tell me right now what it was that you did."

Erik shook his head frantically and started sobbing again, "It-It wasn't my fault! It was but then it wasn't! I didn't mean for it t- oh god!"

"Erik! What. Did. You. Do?" Damien shook Erik, smacking his cheek briskly, "Pull yourself together!"

Erik took several deep breaths and swallowed, "I . . . I slept with . . . Christine."

Damien sat back in shock as Erik covered his face and sobbed some more, "You . . . that girl at the opera house?"

" . . . yes . . . " Erik whispered, gripping his head in his hands, "I . . . oh god, Father, what do I do?"

Damien shook his head, staring at Erik in a mixture of pity and shock, this was not something he was used to dealing with. Of Philippe, he could see this behavior, the young de Chagny was known for his many female consorts (at least that was putting a tasteful label to them anyway), he wouldn't be surprised if Philippe had not already had his rounds with the chorus girls, even Raoul was a flirt more often then not, but Erik? He was devoted to Josette, he treated her like his muse and goddess and the idea that he'd gone to bed with a mere girl who was no one and nothing to the public, it was unfathomable!

"You tell Josette." Damien said simply, rubbing his eyebrow absently and looking at his elder son with poorly disguised shame, "You go to her and tell her that you made a mistake. Then you fire this girl and life carries on."

" . . . just like that?" Erik murmured.

"Yes. Just like that. I am _abhorred _by this act, the idea that you would reduce yourself to fucking-"

"Father!" Erik's eyes widened at such crude language the likes of which he had not heard in years.

"A common _wench!_" Damien stood and strode past Erik who quickly got to his feet, "You, who I thought was of greater moral character than this! I never in an age would have thought that one of _my sons,_ whom I boast such great pride in, would shame me by whoring himself out to some . . . flouncing stage slut! And how dare you, for that matter, come to me expecting sympathy! Were you drunk at the time?"

"I . . .no." Erik admitted, not even able to look at Damien.

"So you did not even have the intelligence to be sloshed before mounting this girl? You daft, stupid boy! Have you any idea what may happen if this gets out?" Damien thundered, "Of the de Chagny's everyone expects such frivolity, but my family has never once been so scandalized! You would ruin Josette along with yourself!"

Erik couldn't find the words to defend himself at this point.

Damien paced the room like an agitated lion and he very like one at that moment, "Word gets out that you've done such a thing and it could affect us all! I've already publicly named you the successor to my name and everyone knows that you and Josette are going to be married! And you can't keep your cock in your pants when she's been nothing but faithful!" Damien turned his angry glare on Erik, "Was she good? Assuming she was virgin."

"I- what?"

"Was she good in the rack? Was she worth it?" Damien pressed, he could not believe that Erik was so stupid, after everything he'd worked so hard for, after everything he'd been through; this one night, if had been indeed only one night, could pull everything out from under him and after Damien's wife had been put away . . . there could not be more rumors of the family circulating, it would ruin Erik.

" . . . " Erik found breathing difficult because he knew Father was _right_, he'd done something that didn't just hurt him, he'd betrayed his father's trust as well as Josette's, and it hadn't been worth this, he was so guilty over it all and it hurt to know that Father was just as disappointed and disgusted as Erik was with himself.

Damien stopped long enough to put his hand on the mantelpiece, staring at the dying embers in the fireplace, "You better pray to God that she doesn't get pregnant."

Erik's head snapped up, "What?"

"You heard me," Damien's eyes narrowed, "Because you get her pregnant, Erik Harcourt de la Roche, you're marrying that girl."

Erik's eyes widened in shock, "You-You can't be serious!"

"I am _dead_ serious, boy," Damien's voice was so low and quiet that he was barely understandable, "You will pay for your transgressions as is proper."

Erik felt his eyes watering again, "But I- it was only one night!"

"Sometimes that's all it takes." Damien pointed to the door, "Go. You have to go speak with Josette. Now."

Erik stood there for a moment more then turned toward the door, stopping just short to grab the doorjamb and look over his shoulder,

"I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"Good. You should be ashamed of yourself." Damien said evenly, "Go."

* * *

After Erik left, Damien sat down heavily, his elbows resting on his knees as he scrubbed at his face tiredly, how could Erik do such a thing? He hated to say those things to his child, but this wasn't a 'come to Father crying and he'll put everything right again' problem, this was a 'you're an adult now and you need to fix your own mess' problem. Erik wasn't a little boy or even a boy at all anymore, he was twenty and an adult, he had to _be_ an adult and handle things maturely or he would never learn. Damien knew in his heart that this was an isolated instance, if it hadn't been, Erik would not have been so distressed, which would have angered Damien more than it broke his heart. Sadly, he was aware that if he had not been as harsh as he knew he had been, this isolated instance, no matter how much he trusted his son, might not remain isolated. He just hoped that Erik's contrite confession was genuine.

* * *

Erik stood at Josette's door several hours later, he'd taken the long way to her home in the Parisian suburbs and his heart throbbed painfully as he knocked. The door was opened moments later by the maidservant,

"Monsieur de la Roche?"

Erik removed his hat and licked his lips, "Yes, is Mm. Josette in today?"

"Yes, Monsieur, is she expecting you?" The woman asked softly.

"Ah, no, she isn't, would you be so kind as to ask if she would see me?" Erik asked softly, feeling his nerves starting to get the better of him and it was all he could do to keep the decorum intact and not charge past this woman and find Josette for himself.

"Of course, will you come into the foyer? It looks like rain." She stepped back to allow him into the house and he moved to stand just by the door.

He watched the rather rotund maidservant go up the stairs and listened intently to the muffled conversation then there were hurried footsteps and there she was beaming down at him from the top of the stairs but then she saw his grim face and the smile fell away to a concerned frown and she quickly made her way down the stairs and was holding the hand that wasn't clutching his hat,

"Erik, what's the matter?"

Erik swallowed and then shook his head, "Jo . . . I . . . is there somewhere we can talk?"

She nodded and led him to the study, there was no one there and Josette sat down on the sofa, gesturing for him to join her, then she took his hands in hers, setting his hat aside on the low table,

"Whatever is the matter, Erik? You're hands are shaking." Her porcelain face crinkled with concern.

"Jo, you know I love more than I ever thought people could love each other." He said, holding her hands tightly in his.

Josette nodded warily, "Yes, and I love you but I don't-"

Erik shook his head and licked his lips, "I . . . did something last night that I'm ashamed of."

Josette's face changed from concern to confusion then she let go of his hands, "What are you saying?"

"I," Erik looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists, "I slept with the girl I was tutoring."

Josette was very quiet for a moment then she spoke in a very quiet, trembling voice, "Christine?"

"Yes." Erik bit down on his lip, finding solace in the sharp pain.

Josette stood abruptly, "Get out."

Erik's eyes widened and he looked up at her, "What?"

"I said 'get out'!" Josette turned and started to leave but Erik grabbed her and tried to pull her to him, her hand shot out and slapped him in the face, she backed away from him, tears already coursing down her face as he let go of her out of shock, "Just leave me alone!"

"Jo, wait, I'm sorry!" Erik tried to catch up to her, only for her to whirl around angrily.

"You think simply saying 'I'm sorry' will patch this? Erik, I have been more than patient with you! I've sat around for years ignoring my parents and shooting down every cruel word that my so-called friends have ever said against you! I've waited and remained pure for you! And you do this? How could you . . . ?"

Erik stood there, becoming aware that this was what a broken heart looked like, he had caused this and all he wanted to do was sink into the earth and never be heard from again,

"If I could take it back, I would . . . I swear to you, I never meant it to happen."

"But it _did_, Erik, it did happen . . . did you try to stop it? I know you're a strong man, don't tell me that that little slip of a girl was able to force herself on you!" Josette's eyes swam in hurt, "Don't lie to me and tell me that you put up any fight against it! Did you even try?"

Erik looked down, unable to face her anymore, " . . . no."

Josette sobbed and then turned, running away from him and he didn't even attempt to stop her either, he let her go then left the house, his heart hurting so badly that he was certain it was dying in his chest.

* * *

Erik stood staring out at the world from his bedroom window, the door was open but no one had bothered to come in and try to console him, no one was speaking gently to him, or even attempting to come near him. He'd come in and Damien had kept working, not even glancing his way when he stopped for a moment in the doorway before retreating to his room. The fawn hadn't come out of the Solar either, Father had most likely told Robért what he'd done and at that moment the last thing Erik wanted to do was face his little brother, whom he'd broken so many promises to and ignored for so long that he really didn't even deserve his sympathy.

The rain was pouring against his windowpane, it had started as soon as he'd left Josette's home, reflecting the drops that fell off his face a thousand times over as he sat in the carriage on the way home.

He could not believe what was happening to him, he'd caused a kind of pain that he didn't think he was capable of inflicting. It was strange that up to a few years ago he'd stopped seeing a monster in his reflection but now as he stared at the never-ending rain, he could see that monster looking back at him in the window, as twisted and horrid as it had been that first time he'd looked in a mirror.

Erik pushed away from the window and sat on his bed, feeling filthy, unclean, impure . . . like a creature below contempt, beyond loathsome . . . he knew what it was to love so strongly that it burned then to have that love torn apart, he knew that Josette was sitting in her room or even in her mother's arms, sobbing and hating him. All that she'd said was true, she'd waited for him and he'd given in to the basest of sins. How could he do such a thing? How could . . . no . . . _why_ would he do such a thing?

Erik started to try and deconstruct the situation, hoping to find some insight from this mess, but unfortunately he came to the same ending, Christine was, is and forever would be,

"Nothing like Josette." Erik bitterly concluded, no matter how he looked at the entire situation, he knew he was at fault.

He quickly got up and moved to the bathroom, running water for a bath and stripping off his clothes, he needed to clean this feeling off, he needed to get rid of the almost perceivable layer of filth off his skin! He got in the water when it was deep enough and began to scrub the soap into his skin, desperately sobbing as he failed to feel any better. He pulled his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around them and broke down, he had to fix this . . . he had to make everything right again! He would do whatever he had to get Josette back and reinstate himself in his father's trust!

But first, he was going to cry himself dry.

* * *

Robért sat on the edge of the stage listening to the rehearsals as Raoul chattered away, complimenting the girls and asking after some girl named 'Christine'. He became aware of hurried steps then someone standing in front of him. Raoul immediately swooped in, nearly startling Robért,

"Christine! You're looking quite lovely today." The boy gushed and Robért fought the urge to gag at the obvious adoration in Raoul's voice.

"Yes, thank you, Viscomte," Christine said, clearly distracted, "Monsieur de la Roche? I have not seen your brother in several months, is he well?"

Robért didn't answer right away but considered the feel of the air around him, how tense things were as the musicians quickly vacated the area and the dancers hung back to listen in,

"He's quite well, thank you. Why do you ask?"

"Yes, Christine, why do you ask?" Raoul repeated and Robért heard the younger hop down from the stage.

"Pardon me, Monsieur but this does not concern you!" Christine snapped, then she turned back to Robért, "Please, give him this message, will you?"

She placed an envelope into the blind man's hand then turned and left.

"Let me see it." Raoul insisted, trying to grab at the envelope.

Robért pulled it away, stashing the message into his coat pocket, "No, it is for Erik, not you."

"But-"

"No. Now, I think it is time I go home, come along then." Robért slid off the stage and began to walk up the aisle to the door stopping when he did not hear Raoul behind him, "What is keeping you then?"

" . . . why would she be giving Erik notes?" Raoul asked finally.

"How should I know? He is tutoring her. Or he was anyway." Robért tilted his head and waited for Raoul to catch up.

"Was tutoring her? He isn't anymore?" Raoul pressed, hurrying to keep in stride with the much taller Robért.

"Not to my knowledge, but then he doesn't disclose his business with me, I find it rather boring." Robért shrugged.

"Oh . . . " Raoul huffed and followed Robért to their carriage.

* * *

"Here." Robért held out the envelope.

Erik looked up and then sighed when he saw that it was addressed to 'My Angel' in neat, loopy text, "Thank you."

"I think it's been long enough, don't you?" Robért sat down next to his brother, "You can't hide forever, you know."

" . . . I know." Erik murmured, "I'm . . . working on it."

Robért sighed and put a hand on Erik's shoulder, "Just promise me one thing, no matter what happens, don't leave me out of the loop, alright?"

Erik blinked then nodded, "I won't, I promise."

His little brother nodded and stood, leaving him with his thoughts and the note. Erik slowly began to read through it,

_My Angel,_

_I have not heard from you in many weeks and I begin to worry._

_I had hoped that you would have been thrilled with my news but instead_

_you greet me with stony silence. Please know that I love you and I will be_

_waiting anxiously for your correspondence._

_Yours forever and always,_

_Christine_

Erik felt sick, he put the note aside and closed his eyes, he had tried to ignore her constant barrage of letters and notes, tried to tell her that it had been a mistake, that he did not want her or desire her in that way but the damned girl would not take a hint and now this . . . what could he do? She could go public with the news she'd dropped into his lap not two weeks prior and now what? He remembered what his father had said and he ached so badly inside for Josette that he could not bring himself to tell anyone.

Christine was with child.

**A/N: A few things: Harcourt is the middle name that Erik chose. Umm . . . well, has anyone ever seen LND? Love Never Dies? Yeah, drawing upon that storyline a little here and I'm sorry if you either A) expected me to follow the PotO storyline closely because honestly it wouldn't have worked with how I have portrayed Erik or B) didn't like LND. If you do not like the LND storyline, I'm deeply sorry but I absolutely loved it. Also, if you are disgusted that I had Erik impregnate 12 year old Christine, let us bear in mind THE TIME PERIOD THAT I AM WRITING! Alright? Please do not hate me because I'm being true to the times, okay? And being an 'actress' of sorts, Christine would have been exposed to sex and debauchery, and it would have been normal for all this to take place. There, i said what I needed to say, merry x-mas.**


	13. Of Tragedy and Reconciliation

**A/N: This is me totally losing my mind and spending the WHOLE DAY writing the next chapter because if you think you couldn't stand not knowing what was happening next, I had it a MILLION times worse! This will be another fast-paced chapter (not as in I'll lose you all and have to go back and fix everything, just having a lot going on here) and I'm hoping that I will be able to slow the pace down once this one is over. No, I KNOW i will slow it down. SO ANYWAY! Happy birthday Gaby, thank you JB for your continued help, hug to my friend Mask, and LOVE TO ALL! Enjoy the 13th installment of Maskless!**

It was so quiet . . . That alone was going to kill him . . . that and the fact that she just wasn't talking or moving or anything. Erik sat there in the silence of what had become their world, the quiet that threatened to suffocate them, and it was his fault, all of it. Her vacant stare, the rigidness in her posture, and the set of her jaw; he had caused this.

"What will you do?" She asked, finally breaking the silence.

Erik rubbed the back of his neck, and swallowed, "I . . . I don't know."

Josette slowly lifted her gaze and stared at him for a moment, her eyes weren't full of tears anymore, that stage of her anger and grief was past; no, now she wished to feel nothing, especially for the man that sat across from her, a man that still made her heart beat with such happiness at his presence alone that she thought the organ affected would sprout wings and deem her breast not fit for its home and would wing its way to grander, higher roosts. Now? She could not bear to look at him fully for fear of rushing into his arms or at his feet, begging to know what she had not been or done that his eyes would seek out another! She felt her lip tremble and immediately bit into it to silence its threat of breaking down,

"I think you do." She said quietly.

"Please, don't . . . don't go there." Erik murmured, putting his face in his hands, "I just . . . Jo, I'm lost, I have so many regrets these past months and I've caused so much pain . . . I don't know what to say or do to fix any of this but I am trying, I swear to you. Please just . . . just . . . "

"Just _what_, Erik? Forget everything that happened and pretend that everything is alright?" Josette stood up irritably, "Pretend that I'm _won't _bethe laughingstock of the entire upper class when, not if, this gets out? Pretend that I don't keep waking up remembering that after everything, this is still happening and it isn't going to magically go away? You ask the impossible of me."

She stood staring out the window, a world she'd once seen with such color and beauty, such promise, was oddly gray and tasteless. She heard Erik stand from the sofa but he did not move any nearer,

"No, I would not dare ask for such things as it would be lying to myself and downplaying my guilt in all this. What I ask is that it will be remembered that I am truly and deeply sorry for what I have done, that I can put in my two week notice with Phil and I will not be returning to the Opera House ever again if that is your wish, and that I . . . " Josette heard Erik take a shuddering breath before continuing, "That I wish I was not so stupid and foolish to pity that damn girl and give in to something I barely understand. That I love you with a passion that burns and to know that I've hurt you causes me a pain that I wish was physical instead of what it is because I can deal with physical pain, I can handle it, I can bear a scar amongst the best of men, but this? This I can't assuage with any poultice or ointment, this won't be gone within a few weeks or months or even years, this could go on forever and I know that if I lose you completely, I deserve to burn with this pain until I die. And that isn't even the worst of it, the fact that I am actively inflicting the same pain on you even as I stand here pouring out this drivel is and I am so sorry beyond all words and feelings that I hurt you . . . I have never been so cruel to anyone as I am to those I love and I don't even know why I do it." Erik fingered the brim of his tall hat and licked his lips, " . . . I love you, Jo, and whatever else happens, I ask that you never forgive me of this."

Josette's eyes widened in shock and she turned to stare at him, "Shouldn't you be saying the opposite?"

Erik shook his head, truly repentant, "I don't deserve it, though I will do whatever it takes to become worthy of it. Adieu, Mademoiselle."

He put his hat on his head, took his cane in hand and he left without another word, Josette waited a moment or two before sitting back down and she felt tears she refused to acknowledge slide down her cheeks. She loved him, damn her to hell but she did . . . she loved the monster and the man; he was light and life and love but he was also darkness, death and hatred, all in one person was everything that encompassed the best and worst in men and it was an addiction, an incurable thirst for everything that was Erik de la Roche, and despite her anger and betrayal at what he did, her righteous indignation of being so slighted, she could not look at him and not see it, the pain and anguish that she knew was mirrored in her own eyes.

"My God, what do I do?" She whispered to the empty room.

It was a puzzle, one that she did not know the answer to. She was lost, adrift in conflicting emotions and fears, how could she not love the man that inspired her mind and soul? But then . . . how could she? Josette had tried to be frosty, tried to be the grudge-holder, to play the role her mother told her would work, but it took only a moment to realize that she need not fit into any of these things to win him back, he was hers already!

And yet . . . her pride refused to let her heart have what it wanted.

" . . . why can't we just . . . be?" Josette put her aching head in her hands and groaned, it was too frustrating to try and puzzle this out . . . she quickly got to her feet and went to the back door to the garden, she needed air.

* * *

"You realize what this means, don't you?" Damien sat behind his desk, hating the distance that he knew was there between them and hating all the more that he had been forced to put it there in the first place.

" . . . yes." Erik's voice was choked as he stared down at his hands, "I-I do."

Damien nodded sadly, closing his eyes, "Erik, I'm not going to lecture you or yell, you've had enough of that thus far, I think. I am going to say that if this happens, you've written your future. Do you understand?"

Erik nodded, he was beyond tears and pleading now, he'd wasted it all on Josette earlier, he just wanted to be left alone . . .

Damien opened his eyes and swallowed, "Oh, Erik, my Erik . . . how does tragedy follow so closely at your heels as often as happiness? Biting at your ankles like restless dogs . . . I blinked and you grew up, gone is my sweet little fox and in his place a man. Why did I blink, Erik? Why didn't I stay awake? How could I be so careless a parent to miss so much?"

Erik slowly looked up; Father was doing it again, blaming himself for Erik's stupidity, "Father . . . "

Damien shook his head, "You must know that all I want to do is take you in my arms and hide you and Robért from this world . . . that all I want is to protect you from it, to keep it at bay and just let you be happy and safe . . . my god, how do these things always happen to us?"

"Father, please . . . " Erik didn't know what he was pleading for, he didn't mind sharing the guilt, it hurt so badly inside that pushing some of the blame on his father sounded like a good idea for a moment.

But then, only for a moment.

Erik stood and put a hand on Damien's shoulder, staring down at his father's bowed head cradled in his large hands, he'd always seemed so much bigger in Erik's memory, but now Erik could see that life was slowly pulling Damien into old age. His hair was graying and the smile lines on his face were becoming more noticeable, though Erik would have given his left hand just to see his father smile again.

Then Erik realized what he really wanted,

"Please . . . forgive me."

Damien lifted his head and looked up at his son, his painfully intelligent son who could be so dense sometimes it was almost laughable! His son that one moment would be so mature and precise, was then the next a little boy trapped in a man's body . . .

Damien stood slowly, almost huffing when he saw that he and Erik were nearly the same height, Erik's head coming just under Damien's nose,

"Nothing that you've done is unforgivable, Erik, and even as the dust settles on this calamity, I will still love you and stand by you, I swore it years ago when you chose to be in our lives." Damien put his hand out and hesitantly let it grip Erik's chin, tilting the young man's head up to look him in the eyes, "I will not force you to do anything, it must be your decision."

Erik nodded, "But you think I should."

Damien sighed and shook his head, letting his hand drop, "Whether or not anyone would ever know is debatable. You love Josette and I would welcome her into this family with open arms, but the question is, does she want that too now?"

Erik shook his head, "I do not think so."

Damien bit his lip, "Can you blame her?"

"No."

" . . . Erik, I'm sorry."

"I am too." Erik whispered.

* * *

Robért sat with Erik's head in his lap, they were sitting on Robért's bed as they had been for the past hour. Earlier, Erik had just collapsed on the bed where his brother had been reading a book that had raised bumps instead of letters, it was a new method that an old tutor of theirs had learned and then passed to Robért called 'braille'. But the book was quickly put aside as his older brother required his attention.

"I've destroyed everything again . . . Fawn, why do I do these things? Looking back, I don't even know why I did it . . . " Erik closed his eyes as Robért's fingers carded through his short hair.

" . . . I don't know either." Robért murmured, " . . . Erik, she still loves you."

"What?" Erik looked slowly at Robért.

"I talk to people, remember?" the blind boy rolled his eyes and pushed Erik's head back down, "And don't act like you're so stupid you didn't already know that."

Erik sighed and nodded once, "Yes but that doesn't change what I did. It still is the way that it is and . . . I am lost as to how I could possibly fix anything."

Robért was quiet for a long moment then he leaned forward over Erik, "Perhaps . . . perhaps Christine will lose the baby? Perhaps it will work itself out? I cannot tell the future, but maybe things will fall back into place and we can just put it behind us."

Erik sat up tiredly and shook his head, "I do not think it is that simple."

"No, it won't be but then . . . how can you know?" Robért gestured around the room, "You can't just stay in the house all the time contemplating and guessing, maybe . . . maybe we should go do something about all this? We make a good team and we have always helped each other, why not now?"

Erik looked at his little brother, who really wasn't so little anymore, being taller and broader than Erik and now nineteen, it was hard to believe this young man had ever been smaller and weaker than Erik. He smiled and put his hand on Robért's,

"I appreciate the sentiment, Fawn, but I think this is my mess to clean up."

"Alright, but don't forget that I'm on your side."

"Of course, I can always count on you, can't I?" Erik leaned forward and kissed his brother's forehead, "I have some things to do."

Robért smiled and nodded, "Of course."

Erik nodded, preoccupied with his own thoughts, and left the room.

* * *

It took a long time for Erik to know what he had to do. Several months, actually and within that time, everything was overwhelmingly tense. Raoul soon found out about Christine and Erik's affair and, at the behest of all concerned parties, kept his silence though he now looked at Erik with such murderous contempt that the masked man could not bear to be in his presence. Philippe was away on business quite often and after Erik had confronted him on pulling his own weight at the Opera House because Erik could not shoulder all of it by himself they had a brief falling out, but then Phil came begging for Erik to help him again and they were once more friendly to each other. Christine was _very _pregnant and was thus unable to perform so she was working backstage with the seamstresses, Erik tried to be . . . understanding but since she found he did not care for her as she hoped, they regarded each other with regret, or something like apologetic respect, and she had in so many words promised to keep this between them, the question to simply give the baby up had gone unasked but it was obvious that it was the course of action that was preferred by all parties.

Now, as to the matter of Josette.

Erik stood bravely at the door, he had gotten all the pieces to fit and all that was missing was his Josette, it was time now to confirm either his greatest desire or deepest fear, she would decide which she wanted and he told himself that he would be content with her answer, that he, Erik de la Roche, would wish her all the happiness and joy in her life and that he would never again blacken her life.

He told himself over and over as he pulled the bell-chain that he was doing the right thing. That he was going to free her from this nightmare one way or another.

The door opened and the contemptuous look on the maidservant's face told him more than he probably wanted as to the general opinion of him in the Grosvenor household.

"Is-" He began.

"She is." The woman cut in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

"May I-"

"I suppose I could ask."

And the door slammed in his face, Erik sighed, trading his hat from hand to hand in an attempt to calm himself, this had become the norm for him now, standing out on the front step like a complete fool while he waited to be admitted to the house.

The door opened again and he was begrudgingly led into small parlor, he sat down and waited patiently until she entered, looking wane and tired and his heart ached to simply pull her into his arms and soothe away the dark circles under her eyes. He stood and inclined his head politely,

"Josette."

" . . . M. de la Roche." She murmured, "What is it this time?"

Erik sighed as he realized she had no intentions of coming further into the room, "Is it your pride what's keeping you from me?"

Josette blinked in shock then pursed her lips, "I'm sorry?"

"I have done everything I can think to do to show you that I'm sorry, that I love you, and that I am willing to give up everything for you. I can certainly say that my own pride isn't keeping me back, believe me I'm ready to get down on my hands and knees and _beg _you to see how much this is killing us both!" Erik shook his head and put his hat down, "So what must I do or say that you will find me worthy of you again? How can I mend our hearts? Please, tell me."

Josette stared at him for a moment and then moved to the window, biting her lip and hugging herself, "I don't know . . . "

Erik sighed heavily, "Then I am wasting our time."

Josette turned and looked at him, "What?"

"I am wasting our time," Erik repeated patiently, "Every single moment I take up by coming here, begging and pleading for you to love me again, I'm holding us both back. I'm forcing you to relive all that I have done and you are keeping me from ever moving on. It isn't your fault, it's mine, so, I'll leave and I will never come back if that is your wish." Erik gestured toward the door then, when Josette didn't say anything but just stared at him, he nodded, put his hat on and tipped it to her, "I see, then I will take my leave. I wish you only the best of things, Josette Grosvenor, goodbye."

To say that it wasn't killing him inside to turn from her and start toward the door was a blatant lie, each step felt heavy and the hall stretched farther and farther before him until it seemed like it would be miles before he came to the door even as his heart screamed and kicked its defiance over what he was doing. He was certain he would die of a heart attack before he even had his hand on the knob but then,

"Wait!"

Erik's head spun around so fast he thought he broke his neck and there she was, standing there staring wide-eyed at him, his Josette, his love,

"Wait, don't . . . don't go." Josette bit her lip, "Don't leave . . . don't say that after everything, what has been between us is dead and buried, don't look me in the eye and say that I am capable of ever getting over all that you are to me . . . I would rather rot in the darkest, deepest pit of the Earth then go one more moment thinking that you aren't mine."

Erik felt himself smiling and he took off his hat, "Then don't."

One moment they were so very far from each other, the next Erik wasn't sure where he ended and Josette began as they embraced and their lips met in the desperation of what they both denied each other. An embrace that left Erik speechless and Josette breathless, neither could hear beyond their own breathing, beating hearts, and Erik repeating over and over without realizing he was even the one speaking,

"Jo . . . my Jo, forgive me, forgive me please . . . My Josette, my rose, my dearest darling, my angel . . . "

* * *

The fire crackled and Erik found it difficult to tear his eyes away from the shadows and golden glow it cast on Josette's alabaster skin in exquisite detail as she ran her fingers slowly through his brownish-blonde locks, her fingers skirting over the twisted flesh at his temple and cheek, plucking a stray hair from his skin and flicking it away. His blue eyes stared up at her with such intensity that if she were not used to it, she would flush bright red.

" . . . so, now that we've relinquished our feud, what about the girl?" She asked though she hated to disrupt the sanctity that they'd created.

Erik sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head, "I don't know . . . she said that she would give the child up when and if she delivers it . . . her and I, well, we are not 'her and I' . . . as you can imagine things have been . . . _tense_."

"I want you to stay at the Opera House." Josette said suddenly, moving some of his hair behind his ear.

Erik opened one eye, his eyebrow cocked, "Beg pardon?"

"You belong there, in that world and I . . . I trust you." She said, but the tone of her voice told Erik that she was not being entirely truthful.

" . . . Jo, I told you I would leave it, there are more music halls and opera houses in Paris, I-"

"Yes, but not so well known or highly-regarded as the Opera de Populaire." Josette pointed out.

Erik sat up, tilting his head, "Well, no, but that hardly seems to-"

"You deserve recognition," Josette said severely, taking Erik's hands in hers, "And working there will give you the push you need to become renowned. Erik, I am not comfortable with you being there but I do not want you throwing a silly little girl out into the cold because of us, that isn't the right thing to do and we both know that. I would, however, ask that you not be alone for long periods of time."

" . . . that's fair." Erik nodded then glanced at the fire, he sighed and thought long and hard about everything that had happened between them then he smiled and looked up at Josette, reaching his hand out to stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers, "I love you."

Josette smiled in return and leaned into the touch, "And I love you."

* * *

Erik was in his office at the Opera House when there was loud, frantic knocking at the door, he quickly got to his feet and ran to the door, pulling it open on little Meg Giry, "What? What is it?"

"Mama says that Christine is delivering the baby, we need a midwife!" The little girl's eyes were wide with terror.

"Well don't just stand there, go get one!" Erik snapped, striding past the frantic girl, his mind a whirling torrent of possibilities and scenarios as he made his way to the dormitory wing.

He heard the muffled screams and sobs long before he rounded the corner and saw the hallway cluttered with little chorus girls, stagehands, and other denizens of the Opera house, he waved them away then knocked on the door. M. Giry answered, her sleeves of her nightdress were rolled up and she was rather pale,

"Meg said-"

"Yes, she is in labor. Now, if you will get these people to clear the hallway so the midwife can at least make it to the room in less time?"

Erik blinked as the door slammed in his face and he turned on the on-lookers, "Go on then, back to your business!"

The troupe scattered like frightened rabbits leaving Erik alone with nothing to keep him company but the litany of pain coming from Christine's room. The midwife paid him no more mind then a quick puzzled glance could afford before she ducked into the room. Meg stood silent and wide-eyed in the hall before biting her lip and sitting down next to Erik,

"Will she be alright?" The little girl asked softly, tears sliding down her face.

"I don't know." Erik said honestly, staring at the wall opposite.

Meg squeaked and then burst into tears, covering her face with her shawl and shaking her curly little head, "She can't die, she's my best friend! What will I do without her?"

Hours went by and then there was a loud wail that was not Christine's, but it was short-lived and then there was a flurry of movement beyond the door, Erik stared at the closed door, he could here Christine's name being called frantically then another wail, only this one belonged to one M. Giry. Meg flew to the door and wrenched it open, hurrying in.

Erik stayed where he was, looking in through the space the open door allowed him, M. Giry was holding a prone Christine in her arms and Erik felt his own eyes watering and spilling over, he did not feel elated or happy that such a tragedy would befall them, how he could even for a moment think that the girl's death would make things easier was beyond his comprehension.

There was a moment then Giry stood up, straightening her skirts and stiffening her back before taking a bundle from the midwife and striding out to the hallway, and she stopped in front of Erik. He looked up at her, Giry's eyes blazed with a mixture of hatred and sorrow as she pressed the bundle into Erik's arms,

"Here, you have a son." She said shortly before turning on her heel and dragging Meg behind her.

Erik sat for a moment more in shock before looking down at the bundle and only then did he realize that it contained a wriggling, fussing red-faced baby. His eyes widened and he slowly got to his feet, frantic as the bundle began to hiccup and cry,

"I- Giry, wait! What do I do?" He called down the hall but his raised voice only caused the baby to burst into more wails, Erik looked down at the infant in a panic, "Oh, no, please don't do that . . . oh god . . . "

* * *

Erik sat back in his chair, watching Damien and the baby with relief, his father at least knew a thing or two about raising a baby and as Damien handed him back his son, Erik was able to better appreciate the value of silence.

Damien sat down across from his son in his armchair, shaking his head, "Just like that, then?"

Erik nodded sadly, looking up from the baby for a moment, " . . . yes."

"God in Heaven, Erik you have the worst luck of any human I've ever encountered . . . well, what are you going to do?" Damien asked, settling into the chair comfortably, rubbing his temple to stave off the inevitable headache that he would have to contend with. He mused for a moment on how many times Erik must have been asked that question over the last few months, 'what are you going to do?', as if anyone ever knew what to do.

"I was hoping you would know . . . the plan was to give the baby up but . . . " Erik bit his lip as the baby shifted in his sleep and gripped Erik's finger in his tiny fist, "I . . . I can't . . . "

"You do realize what you are committing to? Raising a baby is not an easy task, Erik, and you have more than enough on your plate now." Damien warned, though he was glad that Erik was considering this, he had not been a fan of giving the baby up to begin with.

"I-I know that but I . . . he's mine." Erik said softly, he pressed his forehead to the infant's and smiled, "He's all mine . . . "

" . . . Yes, but Erik, are you ready for a child? Not just a child, but an infant without a mother? That is a great deal different from-"

"I know, Father, I _know_, but this was something that I did and now I'm taking responsibility for it." Erik said firmly, shifting the baby to his other arm, "That's what you want me to do, isn't it?"

Damien nodded and stood, "Did you discuss this with Josette?"

"Not . . . not yet, but I'm sure that she will come around." Erik sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "She'll have to, this is my son and . . . and well, I don't know."

Damien leaned on the mantelpiece and nodded, "Did you name him?"

Erik nodded, "Gustave."

Damien smiled, "That's a good name."

Erik smiled, "Gustave Ancel de la Roche."

Damien walked over and leaned over the back of the chair to look at the baby, "And from great tragedy, comes a faint, glimmering light . . . "

Erik looked up at Damien and felt like a heavy weight was lifted off his chest, he opened his mouth to say something but then Gustave shifted and began to cry again.

Damien laughed and shook his head, "And thus it begins . . . "

**A/N: ((Nimbly ducks behind computer)) Did I do good? Seriously I pushed every plotbunny I had into this. At least all the ones that I set up. Christine is dead, sad, yes, but I almost felt it necessary. Raoul will . . . well, he'll heal eventually, or maybe he won't? Who knows, I don't. As I have told several people I absolutely adore Josette and I refused to get rid of her and the more and more I thought about it the more certain I was that they had to be together. AS for the baby, we shall have to see how that pans out! I'm not sure if Robért would be a good babysitter though . . . **


	14. Of Storms and Caution

**A/N: Okay, I took a step back and took some time to write this next chapter. It is short but I thought after all the tragedy and angst it was time for some good old fluff and nonsense, among a small smattering of angst. I hope you enjoy!**

Erik had finally drifted to sleep when the storm outside gave a thunderclap that seemed to shake the house. At any rate, it woke the youngest member of the household and with that also came loud wails of distress. Erik groaned and sat up, he'd been told by his father that Erik and Erik alone was responsible for the tiny baby; that included getting up in the middle of the night to see to the infant, bathe him, dress him, and feed him, among other things.

Truthfully, Erik didn't mind most of his duties as Father, he did wish that his son, Gustave, would keep regular hours of sleep, but he was told that that miracle took time; several months in fact and everyone was feeling the effects of a colicky baby waking them up at odd hours.

Normally Erik would let Gustave cry for a while, especially if he had already gotten up not long ago to do something or other for the baby, but this was different, there was a storm making loud, unfamiliar sounds outside and Erik didn't like the idea of Gustave being terrified out of his tiny mind over a storm. Well, at least not _alone_ anyway.

Erik was just throwing on some pants and leaving his room when he bumped, literally, into Robért,

"Oh, Fawn, it's alright, the storm just woke Gustave, I'm going to see to him right now." Erik said, blinking at his younger brother.

"O-Oh, alright . . . I'll just, uh, go back to bed then." Robért smiled awkwardly and hurried back to his own room.

Erik sighed and shook his head, quickly moving toward the room across the hall that had formerly been unused but was now repurposed as Gustave's nursery. Erik opened the door and quickly made his way around the various baby-related objects in the room to light a candle on a high table. While Father may have been adamant about Erik taking care of Gustave's basic needs, he took on the role of Grandfather with gusto, bestowing treasures and toys to the child before he could even walk! And he was already buying things for Gustave to use in the future ("Honestly, Father, you go on like this and what will I get him for his birthday or Christmas for the next twenty years?"). Erik leaned over the crib and looked down at the chubby little baby's face, all squinched up and wet with tears, his mouth open in an angry 'o' as yet another boom came from the Heavens.

"There, now, it's alright," Erik murmured, reaching his hand in to stroke the baby's cheek, "Shh, Papa's here, Papa's got you."

The baby gave a soft wail and peered up at Erik in the dim light.

Erik reached in and gently lifted the infant from the crib, settling back in the rocking chair and tucking Gustave into the crook of his arm. He gently dabbed at the baby's cheeks and sighed,

"Well, all that fuss over a little storm, hmm?" Erik smiled getting comfortable and began rocking his son, "Dear Lord, how Grandfather didn't hear you wailing to bring the house down I'll never know. Must be getting deaf in his old age, hmm?"

The baby squealed as Erik stroked the little brown fluff on top of his head that was supposed to pass for hair. Erik continued to croon and soothe the baby, nearly putting him to sleep with a hushed lullaby when he realized he was being watched and not by his son. Erik looked up to the door and sighed,

"It's alright, Robért, he's settled. Go back to sleep."

Robért fidgeted and licked his lips, "I . . . I thought you might need . . . umm, well, some help?" He shrugged weakly and cast his gaze down.

Erik blinked and took a moment to consider this, Robért had been rather taken aback at Erik having a son (everyone had been so that was nothing remarkable), and he'd at first seemed excited and happy when Erik had told him that Gustave would be coming to live with them but then . . . he stayed as far away from the baby as possible, he wouldn't come near him or hold him or really seemed comfortable with having the infant around. Erik had tried to get Robért to bond with his child but his brother had ultimately refused, shying away from any attempt. This, obviously, disheartened Erik, he didn't understand when Robért had always been so good with children and would often stay with the younger ones during parties and gatherings. Perhaps an infant was too much for the younger man to handle and he was nervous but he didn't seem to want to even try . . .

Erik slowly stood up, being careful not to jostle Gustave too much as he moved toward the door, "Robért, would you like to nurse him?"

Robért's whole frame went rigid and he shook his head, "No."

"Are you sure?" Erik carefully shifted Gustave to his other arm.

Robért nodded and then turned and hurried to his own room.

Erik sighed heavily and put Gustave back in his crib, kissing his child delicately on the forehead before blowing out the candle and going to his own room.

* * *

Erik found Robért in his Solar the next day; sulking as was the usual these days when Father didn't have work for the younger de la Roche. Erik sat on the window seat next to his brother and sighed, clasping his hands on one knee,

"Fawn, we need to talk."

"About what?" Robért asked, not facing Erik.

"About Gustave and how you are avoiding him at all costs." Erik shrugged, then remembering that the gesture was lost on his blind brother, reached out and touched his shoulder lightly.

"I-I'm not _avoiding _him." Robért defended, pulling away from Erik.

"Well you certainly aren't trying to bond with him!" Erik snapped, "Robért, brother, I thought you were happy that my son was going to live here with us but you just . . . " Erik rubbed his eyebrows tiredly, "Every time I try to involve you in Gustave's life you pull away. So explain it to me, help me understand, why?"

Robért licked his lips and clenched his hands into fists, " . . . I don't want to . . . "

"What?" Erik lifted his head and leaned forward to better hear.

Robért huffed in frustration, "I don't want to hurt him or drop him!"

"What makes you think you'd do either of those things?" Erik's eyes widened in realization of the magnitude of Robért's insecurity and feeling foolish for doubting his brother.

"I-I wouldn't do it on purpose, just by accident what if something happens and I . . . what if I ruin him?" Robért swallowed thickly, "I don't think I could live with that."

Erik scooted closer, putting his hand on Robért's, " . . . is this because of Mother?"

Robért hung his head and nodded, snuffling.

"Oh, Fawn, I know you and I know you'd be careful! It wouldn't be your fault if something were to happen!" Erik put his arms around Robért and laughed, "All this time I thought you were angry with me . . . "

"I _was _angry from what you did but not so much anymore," Robért hugged Erik back and sighed, "I've never . . . I've never held a baby, what if I make a mistake?"

"I'll be right there with you, I promise."

* * *

Erik practically hovered over Robért as his little brother sat in a chair and held his son in his arms, cooing and giggling at the infant like a fool. Damien glanced up and shook his head,

"Erik, he's fine, sit down before you wear out the carpet."

Erik huffed and sat on the sofa in their parlor, "I have every right to hover, he's my son."

"And now you begin to understand why I'm so gray-headed, I had to hover over you two miscreants." Damien chuckled, tapping the gray streaks at either temple.

Robért scoffed, "You had to hover over Erik more than me, he was the troublemaker."

"Says you," Erik retorted, "We had to be afraid you'd wander off a staircase and crack your crown every five seconds."

"Hush boys, bicker another time, the baby is indeed sleeping." Damien admonished gently, gesturing to the bundle in Robért's arms where Gustave was truly fast asleep.

Robért's eyes widened in a panic, "What do I do?" He hissed.

Erik chuckled, standing and moving to take the baby, "We put him down for a nap."

* * *

Josette sat in the parlor wringing her hands a few days later, it had been several months since Erik had told her the tragic news of Christine Daae's death, it was indeed a sad thing as she had been just a little girl and so misguided, but Josette would be lying if she said she wasn't relieved . . . she was not sure if that was a sin or not.

So here she was sitting in the Comte de la Roche's parlor waiting for Erik to bring the baby down . . . she wasn't sure how to feel about all this. On the one hand, this was a bastard child, illegitimate and the product of an affair and _everyone_ knew about it. The gossip around the theater is enough to make anyone cross themselves for fear of God's eye on them. How much anyone one really knew was up for debate but it didn't change the facts. Then on the other hand, it was Erik's child and she loved Erik enough to forgive any and all wrongs to her character.

She sighed heavily and rubber her temples, pushing her hair irritably behind her ears, the unruly curls were not helping her think. Josette was just about to tie up her hair propriety be damned but then there was an 'ahem' from the doorway and she looked up.

Erik was standing there with a fussing bundle in his arms, he looked nervous and Josette's pride nodded in approval at this, she had forgiven him his transgressions but this little reminder did nothing to cool her. He moved slowly toward the sofa, sitting next to Josette and smiling nervously,

"This is . . . " Erik cleared his throat, "This is Gustave."

Josette leaned forward and peered down at the baby, her eyes widened when she was brought face-to-face with Erik's same blue eyes and a shock of fluffy brown hair. She felt her eyes sting slightly as the baby gurgled and waved a clenched fist forward, grasping for a long strand of Josette's hair as it hung near him.

Erik inclined his head slightly, " . . . Josette?"

She shook her head then reached forward, "May I?"

Erik's eyes widened and he quickly helped her hold the baby, "Of-Of course, here, mind his head."

Josette shook her head again as her eyes welled up with tears, "Oh . . . Erik, he's _beautiful_."

Erik smiled and moved closer, sliding an arm around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder, "I suppose this proves I can sire normal children, hm?"

"Hello there," She murmured to the baby as Gustave looked up at her with wide, bright eyes, "I'm your Mama."

Erik kissed Josette's cheek, "You do realize what this means, don't you?"

"What?" Josette asked, distracted by trying to wrest her finger out of Gustave's strong grip.

Erik reached into his pocket and held something out to her just beyond Gustave's reach, " . . . well, I've caused enough scandal without Gustave having unmarried parents."

Josette looked up suddenly and in Erik's hand was a dazzling five-stone ring,

"It's a de la Roche heirloom, Father said that I should hurry up and ask you to marry me before he does and that . . . that this ring belongs in the family. Our family."

Josette looked from the ring to Gustave and back again, her heart racing, "I- . . . I . . . "

Erik faltered, his face shifting with confusion, "Josette, I love you, I need you, I crave you . . . the air you breath is sweeter, the light that the sun casts on you is brighter and even the raindrops that dare touch your skin make the most beautiful rainbows . . . say you'll be mine and I'll be yours. We'll be happy and complete and I can think of nothing I have yearned for more than to have the holes in my heart finally filled . . . please . . . give me a chance . . . "

Josette blinked, her mouth still open slightly and she closed her eyes, "If you had asked me a few months ago if I thought I'd be sitting here holding a child that isn't mine and wanting nothing more than for him to grow calling me 'Mother' and that I'd have the man of my dreams asking my hand," She shook her head, "I'd call you a fool, but now? Yes. I will marry you and I will love you and Gustave because you both are mine and I am yours."

Erik laughed and kissed her lips, pulling both his son and his fiancé into his arms and breathing out with relief, "I-I thought you were going to say 'no'!"

"Oh, well I knew if I hesitated you would spout that lovely poetry for me." Josette teased, "Mind the baby."

Erik scoffed, "You tease! You almost made my heart stop with that!"

Josette was about to snark back but then Gustave huffed and squawked his disapproval of being ignored and both young people went back to crooning and giggling.

* * *

"Did you even _think_ to ask my permission?"

"Papa!" Josette stood up angrily only for her mother to pull her back into her seat.

"Be _silent_, Josette, the men are talking!" Mm. Grosvenor hissed.

Erik fidgeted, "I did but well, I thought this was what everyone wanted? Josette marries a wealthy heir to one of the largest shipping companies to the Americas and China in all of France, possibly all of Europe and-"

"And Josette gets saddled with your bastard and all the scandal, rumors, and claptrap that goes with him! Not to mention your own moral standing is hardly what we, good Christian people, would want our daughter exposed to." M. Grosvenor seethed, leaning on his desk, but it was hardly as impressive with his paunchy belly and balding auburn head.

"I'm _not _a child!" Josette insisted angrily, "I can speak for myself!"

"You see? You see what your influence has done?" Mm. Grosvenor groused, "Our daughter is speaking out of turn and forgetting that she is still must abide by our rules to be allowed to live under this roof!"

"Please, I meant no disrespect," Erik was finding it difficult to keep his temper in check and not strangle the weasel's throat, but how could he when they referred to Gustave as 'your bastard', as if he wasn't the most lovely infant Erik had ever encountered (not that he really knew many infants but he was certain that Gustave was the best of them), "It simply slipped my mind to ask permission to marry the woman I love."

"Ha! Love? Says the man that whores around with theater trash!" M. Grosvenor scoffed.

Mm. Grosvenor hissed something about 'language, dear' but remained silent otherwise,

"And tell me, have you confessed to a priest with your sins? Have you been absolved of your sins? Your adultery? If these were the Lord's times we would stone you at the city gate!"

Erik kept his mouth tightly closed, he had his own ideas as to God and religion but this was neither the time nor the place for a theological debate.

"You know the de la Roche's aren't church people, dear." Mm. Grosvenor sniffed.

"Yes, why we allowed our pure Christian daughter into your den of sinful men is beyond my comprehension! Your father a divorcee and your brother a cripple, I-"

Erik slammed his hands down on the desk, making it buckle under the force he exerted, he heaved several forced breaths, glaring with hatred at the stunned face of his tormentor, he gritted his teeth and bit out every word bitterly,

"My father did _not_ divorce his wife, he still wears his ring, she went away and never came back and he is the best, most upright of men I have ever known. My brother is blind, _not _a cripple and he has a capacity for beauty, kindness, and understanding that people like you will _never _understand. My family are good people that are given bad turns, we do not harm others, we do not steal or cheat, my father and I are fair business men and my brother is the most loyal of partners. And I hope that my son will one day be just like us. How _dare you_ speak of such things as if you are privy to little more than whispers and conjecture! Now, I am going to marry Josette and if you think you can stop me with insults and petty qualms then you, Monsieur, are in for a fight to the death because I can weave oaths and curses with the lowest scum of the earth. Josette, pack your things, we're going to be married. Tonight."

The room was silent for a moment as Erik's words sank in fully, Josette nodded calmly then left the room, her mother's hand falling uselessly at her side when Erik fixed his icy glare on her when she tried to stop her daughter.

Erik stood and straightened his vest and coat, "I'll telephone my father and have a carriage brought. You may say your goodbyes and then we will leave and you will not see us ever again unless I deem you fit to have Josette grace you with her presence."

He looked at his heavy gold pocketwatch and smoothed his wig, moving to the phone on the desk in front of a bewildered M. Grosvenor.

* * *

Erik and Josette kissed at the altar of a small church that was more than happy to accommodate the unorthodox wedding for the purse of Francs that Erik shoved into the pastor's hands not moments before.

Damien sat back uncomfortably in the pew and sighed, "Your brother's impulsiveness is going to be the death of me."

Robért shrugged, "He's always going to be this way, Father. Why not just embrace the madness?"

"Because I'm boring, crotchety and my time for madness has long since past." Damien grumped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Father," Erik looked at his father, a huge smile plastered on his face despite everything, "Is it long past you naptime as well?"

Damien shook his head and guffawed, "Oh kiss your wife and shut up, Erik!"

Josette laughed and pulled Erik back to face her, "yes, listen to your father, Erik, kiss your wife."

"Yes, Wife." Erik smiled, looking adoringly down at Josette.

Josette's eyes softened, "Very good, Husband."

**A/N: As usual, a few things to get through. Firstly if you could not already defer, to 'nurse' a baby or small animal or whatever at this time period meant to hold them, not breastfeed (I'm obsessive like this, I'm more than certain you all figured the inference), next the elopement of Erik and Josette, it was fully in M. Grosvenor's power at this time period to refuse to give his blessing for the wedding, thereby thwarting Erik's proposal so fast action was necessary, that and I love it when Erik insults people. Lastly, I mean no offense with the religion bit, I merely took some arguments that I myself heard coming from people of religion (M. Grosvenor and his wife are most likely Protestant as Catholicism wasn't as 'popular' in France, if my memory serves, but if I am wrong, apply the reverse to my statement) and like Erik, I am agnostic, I have been in the church my entire life, literally so I do have some background. Alright, that is all, thank you for reading!**


	15. Of Feelings and Conflict

**A/N: Okay, um, sorry this took a while, I'm having a lot on my plate right now (art school is NOT easy, don't listen to anyone who says it is, they obviously never went) and this is yet another 'setting up the plot bunnies' chapter. i would like to thank Wynni for helping me gather some of the plot bunnies I use in this chapter, greatly appreciated that conversation. C8 And can I just say NEARLY 100 REVIEWS SO HAPPY CAN'T CONTAIN AGGGGH! Seriously though, thanks to all of you and love you people!**

To say the transition from living with an infant to being married _and_ living with an infant was easy to make was laughable to Erik, and the idea that he thought it would be easy himself made him scoff. How naive he had been.

Erik sat at his desk and realized that his life had taken many drastic turns in a very short amount of time and it was time to reflect on everything and make sure that he knew what he had gotten himself into and that there were no more surprises on the horizon, he had to be certain of all possibilities and variables. His ever-calculating mind required him to sit in the relative quiet of his office at his father's home and think.

Erik took a slow, cleansing breath and shifted Gustave to the other arm, the child was sleeping peacefully and Erik found it soothing to have the baby with him. His fingers slid through the dark, slightly curly tendrils that were passing for hair on Gustave's head and closed his eyes.

"I wonder, little one, where would we all be if Father had never taken pity on me all those years ago? I wonder what kind of man I would become . . . I shudder to think that I may have very well become the monster I was supposed to have been," Erik glanced down at the baby's soft, plump cheeks and closed eyes, "I suppose I may never have met Christine and you would not exist? But then again, I would not have met your mama, or the de Chagny's. Maybe I wouldn't have written that opera, unfinished as it is, or learned music and writing . . . Gustave, I would have been little better than a beast at that point, uneducated, ill-mannered, and dirty . . . now the thought of getting even a speck of mud under my fingernails makes me cringe, though dust and cobwebs have never stopped me exploring the opera house . . . I don't think I would have liked meeting the man I may have been had none of these things happened to me . . . I think he would scare me or at the very least, repulse me. And you would not want such a man as your papa, would you? No . . . I don't think so." Erik kissed the top of Gustave's forehead and smiled, "Luckily for you, I was found and taken in and you get to have the short-tempered, educated ass that is me for a Father."

* * *

Raoul sat alone on the edge of the stage at the Opera House. He had, as Philippe had so callously put it, 'moped' around the Opera house for quite some time after Christine died, his heart ached and he wanted to just sink into the wooden slats of the stage and fade from existence . . .

Meg stood in the wings, staring sadly at the young de Chagny for a few moments before she moved to sit next to him, nearly sending the young man who had been lost in his own thoughts off the stage,

"Sorry, I did not mean to startle you, I thought you heard me approach." She murmured, twirling the end of her shawl around her finger.

"That's . . . quite alright, I was thinking I needed company anyway." Raoul muttered, sarcasm lacing his words sickeningly.

Meg swallowed then looked at him, "I thought that, perhaps, since we both lost someone dear it would help to share company . . . then again, perhaps I was wrong."

She was about to get up but Raoul stopped her with a hand on her wrist,

"I'm sorry, that was a cruel thing to say, I forget that she was your friend too." Raoul bit his lip, "Selfish of me to think I'm the only one missing her."

Meg stared down at her hands and licked her dry lips, " . . . I'm sorry."

"For what exactly?" Raoul asked, clasping his hands in his lap and staring at the empty seats opposite of him.

"That she didn't love you as you wished." Meg murmured and heard Raoul's breath catch, she glanced sideways at him, "I never . . . I never meant for anyone to get hurt, I swear."

Raoul's eyebrows furrowed and he turned to look at her, "What do you mean?"

"I . . . " Meg rubbed her hands together nervously then covered her eyes, "I told her that Monsieur de la Roche cared for her that way and . . . and she believed me."

Raoul was very near leaping to his feet and demanding answers but reined his anger in and said in as even a tone as he could manage, "Why would you do that?"

Meg scoffed and hopped off the stage, staring up at him from the Pit, her arms crossed, "Isn't it obvious? Perfect Christine gets everything! She got the attention of the wealthiest men in the area, she had talent and voice, her father was famous, and she could have had anything and wanted everything but what was standing right in front of her!" Meg swallowed, looking away and blinking rapidly, "She wanted more . . . she wanted what wasn't hers and . . . and you are the same."

Raoul stared at Meg for another moment then tilted his head, "I only understand some of what you said."

Meg slowly shook her head, "You have money and a title, you could have your pick of the girls but you chose Christine when even a blind man could see her heart was not yours! And you looked over what _could_ be for what you _wanted _to be yours. How much more can I say to make you understand?"

Raoul's eyes widened and he got off the stage as well, standing in front of the blonde girl, "Meg . . . are you saying- I mean, you . . . and me?"

"Perhaps," Meg nodded then sighed, "but I made a mess of everything and we lost Christine to my own stupidity. I'm sorry, I did not intend for anyone to get hurt."

Raoul swallowed and shook his head, turning from her and hugging himself, so Meg had told the lie that drove his would-be . . . what would she have even been? . . . drove Christine to do what she did and caused this whole mess? And he was the one left mourning while Erik had the child and was now happily married to Josette like nothing had happened! But . . .

"Then I am not alone . . . " Raoul murmured softly, turning around and looking at Meg, "I'm not the only one left broken and bruised by this."

Meg shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes, "You were _never _alone . . . Raoul."

Raoul shook his head slightly, biting his lower lip, "I . . . I'll need time to think on things, but . . . I think I would not mind sharing this with you."

Meg smiled a little, "Whatever you need, take it and I will be satisfied, even if it is only a listening ear and steady shoulder, they are yours. Just as friends or otherwise."

Raoul smiled too, "Thank you." And he walked out of the opera house and started to walk all the way home after waving his carriage away, there were things he had to consider and feelings he needed to sort out before he could make any conclusions . . . this would take time.

* * *

Robért sat in his Solar and turned his head when he heard soft footsteps,

"Josette." He nodded in greeting then went back to the potted plant, "What brings you here?"

Josette shook her head and sat on a bench a ways from Robért, "I will never, as long as I live, know how you know me by my footsteps."

The blind man tilted his head then grinned, "Allow me to enlighten you; Father's walk is louder and he has a bit of a limp these days, which was not helped when he went riding for so long with his friends last week, he will do himself an injury one of these days, mark me. And Erik's footsteps are almost silent, he's very cautious when he steps as if he is orchestrating each footfall and does not deviate far from the walls as he does not really like wide, open areas. Whenever he comes into a room he'll find some excuse to not go directly through it but will look at things like paintings and plants or bookcases. At least when he's in a new place he does that, here he does whatever he pleases. And I will say I was surprised with how quickly he adapted to the opera house."

Josette shook her head as her brother-in-law continued to prune the plant in front of him by touch alone, " . . . You know them so well, Robért."

Robért shrugged his shoulders and put the scissors down, "Is there something you wanted?"

Josette grimaced, "I wanted to talk to you."

"I thought you had Erik for conversation, or is he becoming dull in his age?"

" . . . I do like to speak to other people besides my husband."

Robért grimaced at the mention of 'husband' and sighed condescendingly, "Well, then? What do you want?"

Josette blinked, Robért seemed to suffer from mood swings lately, or at least, since she moved into the house, Damien had had no qualms about the newly-weds inhabiting another wing of the house that had been unused, but the younger de la Roche had immediately become reclusive and anti-social and it was worrisome,

"Robért, I thought we were friends."

The younger man closed his sightless eyes then stood, brushing his hands off and straightening his vest, " . . . I don't believe I ever gave that impression."

Josette's eyes widened and she stood up, "What is with you? You've become cold and distant, do you have any idea how this behavior distresses Erik, I-"

"Oh, I'm distressing _Erik_ am I? Dear me, the Prince is displeased, how tedious." Robért pulled his jacket on and moved to leave the room, "_Can't _have that."

"Now you're being childish! What has you in such a mood? I don't remember saying or doing anything to cause such hostility!" Josette moved to follow after him, scowling at this new development despite how unflattering the expression may be on her face.

Robért glanced in her direction but did not stop, "Well seeing as my space is now invaded by you and the baby, I'd say I have more than enough reason. Honestly the novelty of a full house is wearing off rapidly and all I want is the peace and quiet of my own home back. Must you and my idiot brother continue to live here? It is a bothersome arrangement that I am increasingly displeased with! It is bad enough that you and Erik are . . . well, being married and in the house, but I must contend with all the other dramas that you bring with you like a suitcase and the constant attentions my father bestows upon a baby is getting very much on my last nerve!"

Josette stopped walking and blinked, "Then why don't you go?"

Robért blinked and whirled around, "This is my home, I shouldn't be the one to leave!"

She flinched, "No, I didn't mean it like that, I mean, why don't go out and do something if it bothers you so to have 'your space', as you put it, so invaded? There must be something out there that you wish to pursue? Some desire you wish to fulfill that would set your mind at ease? You can't mean what you're saying and you know the last thing that Erik and I want is to make you feel uneasy in your home. I just . . . you must realize how much it hurts Erik to see you so distant, you mean so much to each other but you're both constantly pushing each other away."

Robért shook his head, "There is nothing out there that I want. Erik thinks he has it so bad yet he has everything, again! It-It isn't fair and I'm sick of being in second over and over and not being able to do a damn thing! I don't want things or jobs or another home, I don't want to meet people or go place, and I don't have anything to fill or do or be other than myself! And that's just it, that's what no one seems to understand is that I don't want anything beyond my fair share! Why can't you all just understand that? Why do I have to spell it out for you three every time I don't immediately feel like being anywhere near you? And why should I have to be the one to go out and do something? Make Erik leave for once! Make him be the one to face the world for what it is and stop clinging to Father's coattails like the miserable coward he is!"

"Is that how you feel?"

Robért jumped and turned around, "I didn't hear you-"

"I know." Erik leaned against the wall, arms crossed, "Is that what you really want, for me to go? You really think I'm a coward? I see . . . that's an interesting version of the story. Well, let me set some things straight, _Fawn_, I'm not a coward. I lived my early life being terrified enough to not even flinch at the idea of this world, I'm not the one hiding in flowers. I am running two respectable businesses essentially on my own, I ran against society and married the woman I love, I kept a child that will have controversy and gossip tread behind his every step, and I did it all, with much true fear and apprehension, yes, but I did it anyway. How dare you speak to my wife in such a way when you're the one that is brooding and hiding! One moment I think you're fine and things are as they should be, then you turn around and act like the jaded party! I do not know what is wrong with you, Robért, but perhaps you are right, perhaps it is time for Josette and I to branch off and take up roots in another place as we are intruding upon you so much. Forgive me, brother, I did not intend to inconvenience you so."

The silence that followed Erik's speech was so thick Robért could almost taste it, "I . . ."

"You've said enough." Erik snapped, holding his hand out for Josette, "We will begin making arrangements."

"But-" Robért tried to reach out to Erik but only found emptiness as his brother and his wife retreated.

* * *

Damien closed his eyes, "And I will be dead long before my time, really, these spats are getting out of hand! You two need to come to some kind of understanding! I'm running out of words and out of patience with the both of you!"

Robért bit his lip, "Why do I do these things, Father? Why do I lash out like this? I-I didn't mean most of what I said."

"But you said it and you meant some of it and that's what the point is, damn it all! What is with you, boy? I don't understand what could be provoking you to such words!" Damien stood and for once did not feel the need for a strong drink, sitting instead on the parlor's sofa's armrest.

"I-I don't know! I'm so confused . . . " Robért shook hs head.

"Then maybe you need to get away for a while. Perhaps you need a change in scenery or some such thing, maybe you've been kept home too much."

"You're sending me away?"

"no, I'm giving you the option to broaden your horizons."

" . . . I will do it."

"I'll make the arrangements."

" . . . I'll go tell Erik I'm sorry."

"You do that."

"And Josette."

"Very good."

"And I will stop stalling by telling you all this and get to it."

"That would be wise."

" . . . "

" . . . "

" . . . "

"Do you need a push?"

"No, I'm going."

"In the way of not moving? Are you giving your apologies telepathically?"

" . . . Alright, I'm off."

Damien shook his head and watched Robért leave the parlor, "My god, this is exhausting and yet, an empty house seems almost a novelty at this point."

**A/N: Yeah, see? Now, let me explain myself before you all type like mad beasts at the reviews. As we have seen, Robért does not do well with change and feeling his home is being intruded upon with more people than previous makes him uncomfortable, also he yet again throws a tantrum over wanting or not wanting to do things and I think that's because he really has no idea what he wants or how to get at it, also Erik's attention is no longer on him hardly at all, so he's feeling lonely and left behind again and he's blaming everyone else in the world for it.**

**As for Raoul and Meg, Raoul may have been a love sick little puppy but he also is daunted by the idea that he wasn't loved by the person that held his heart, he isn't going to run into Meg's arms like nothing happened but he is sort of bewildered by the idea that someone really loves him as much as he is capable of loving, and we have all seen how much Raoul is willing and able to overlook past transgressions and see the good in things. I'm sure he and Erik will make up very soon. **

**Okay, that's all I got for now, I'm hoping to update a little sooner than this next time!**


	16. Of Apologies and Explanations

Um, hello there . . . I am just coming on here to let you all who really love this fic know that I have not died and for those that are following me as an author, I know that I've been uploading a lot of things that AREN'T Maskless and I will explain why. Also, did anyone notice that 'Maskless' isn't actually a word and shows up as a typo? I didn't realize that until just now. Anyway, I've . . . well with Maskless I have literally hit a creative wall. I know what i would like to do I'm just struggling with writing it down. As to uploading a ton of other things that AREN'T this surprisingly beloved fic, it's my summer break right now, I have no classes and as of now, no job, so I need to keep myself busy, I uploaded and created a bunch of new fics as a way to give myself lots of creative outlets. SO! That being said, don't worry, I'm not leaving this fic in the dust, I will have something up I'm just a little stuck and life got in the way! Okay so thank you for all your support and if you have been biting your nails thinking I've just given up or gotten bored, you're wrong and I'll be back on schedule I hope soon. C8


	17. Of Comings and Goings

**A/N: I'M BACK! Okay, okay, I'm back now! I got this now, I got my muse, I got my plotline settled and I got stuff and things to get into! Oh, it's good to be back in the swing of writing! C8 RnR, my lovelies!**

Erik felt itchy and oddly cold as the front door closed behind him at the new house, he glanced around at the new furniture and the new paintings on the walls and the new fireplace; none of it was really new but it was unfamiliar to him and therefore felt strangely sterile and untouched. He sat on the new sofa and shifted on the decidedly uncomfortable cushion.

"What was I thinking?" He muttered leaning back, "Certainly the time to move out had long since passed but . . . "

"You detest new places."

Erik looked over at Josette and sighed when she moved into the room, "We're going to be one of those couples then? Finishing each others' sentences?"

Josette shrugged, "Gustave is down for the afternoon and everything has been put into order."

Erik closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the sofa, Josette's head resting on his shoulder while he slowly undid her braid with one hand, "Hmm, well then, what say we retire for the evening?"

Josette's eyebrow rose and she sat up, looking down at the innocently smirking Erik, "Erik, it's only five in the afternoon."

"I'm aware of the time, dearest."

"Then why, pray tell, would we be going to bed so early?" Josette tapped her chin in mock-thought.

"Oh, well, I was thinking that perhaps this house needs a proper christening." Erik sat up and turned toward Josette, kissing under her jaw and sliding his hand over her arm, "Hmm?"

"You are incorrigible!" Josette laughed, trying to pull away, "Romantic fool!"

Erik chuckled, moving closer when Josette retreated to the edge of the couch, "Come now, running will only delay the inevitable."

"Who's running?" Josette teased, kissing Erik wistfully before getting off the couch, "Well then?"

Erik grinned and got off the couch only to have to almost chase after his wife when she ran up to their bedroom on the second floor.

Erik lay on his back and sighed contentedly, smiling despite heavy eyelids and looked over at Josette who was pressed to his side, her arm draped over his chest and her fingers laced with his,

"Sleeping?" He murmured.

"No." Josette opened her eyes and smiled, her cheek pressed into Erik's chest.

" . . . will you pose then?" Erik asked quietly, kissing Josette's forehead.

"I suppose I could be persuaded to hold still for you." Josette smiled and closed her eyes.

Erik nodded and got up, retrieving his charcoals and paper then adjusted Josette's position and hair to suit his taste and sat down to start drawing.

Josette opened one eye briefly and decided to watch Erik, his brow furrowed in concentration while he moved the pencil over the paper with broad deliberate strokes to capture her image in one of his many mediums.

Erik glanced up and smiled, "Eyes closed please."

"I want to watch you." Josette insisted.

"Artist prerogative, my dear."

"Wife prerogative trumps artist, Erik."

" . . . alright, then let me just . . . there, you can keep your eyes open if you'd like."

Josette continued to watch Erik while he drew, his tongue sometimes held fast between his teeth while he worked or darting out to lick the corner of his mouth. He was mesmerizing to watch, his body never still for very long as he was always moving in some small way. Josette had learned this after living with Erik for even this short a time, at first she thought it meant he was uncomfortable or needed something so she would constantly ask him if something was the matter only for him to huff and shake his head 'no'. She would also catch him staring in her direction quite often and that caused her to think he was expecting her to ask or say something only for him to express the opposite and then go back to whatever he was doing. After some time she came to realize that Erik's fidgeting was just something he did without knowing he was doing it, constantly moving was just part of Erik and staring at her for no apparent reason was just Erik looking for the sake of looking. He was quite eccentric as well, but then how could someone who wore a mask at all times not be?

Certain behaviors were just how Erik had always been and nothing would change him, something that Josette had had to resign herself to as some of these new norms were a little disturbing. Erik had a temper that sometimes manifested itself in angry bouts of shouting or destroying something; which had been frightening and unnerving for Josette when she realized that there was no one in the room with Erik at these times. Other times Erik would slip into a melancholy that there seemed to be no way out of and nothing Josette said or did seemed to lighten it at all and Erik would have to get himself feeling better. And still other times, Erik would have a manic happiness and would shut himself away for hours to work on something that he would not share. Even if Josette brought up her curiosities he would simply wave his hand dismissively and tell her that she would know when his project was deemed worthy of her eye. Not that she'd never noticed these things before, it was just more up front now that they were living together.

"You are rather odd." She murmured around her arm.

Erik looked up and quirked an eyebrow, "I believe we established that neither of us are an authority on normality."

"Well, yes, my love, but I was speaking more from my own standing, you are odd and it is proving interesting to try and puzzle you out."

Erik put aside his drawing materials and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his legs, "I'm sorry to be such a conundrum."

Josette sat up and shrugged, "Not so much a conundrum but more of a riddle, something to train the mind and senses, to sharpen and hone them. I find your constant company refreshing and our conversations have not waned as I had feared they might."

Erik cocked his head to the side, "You thought we would become . . . _bored_ of each other?"

"Yes, sadly I had the thought that what with us living together, we would lose interest in our more intellectual pursuits and discussion, I thought that, perhaps, seeing each other daily may prove to wear away at all the banter and such. And, while we've only been in this house for a few days, I still find myself fascinated by you and your mannerisms and I hope that you will continue to surprise me even as we age and wither." Josette smiled, reaching out to cup Erik's cheek, "Tell me you didn't think as such?"

"No, I would not lie to you and say that I hadn't put it past us to either become so wrapped up in our own snarky banter that teasing would exchange places with insults and we would be left wondering why we are where we are in the first place. It had occurred to me that friendship would be a better avenue then courtship but then again, I doubt after even this that we could part ways and be just good friends." Erik closed his eyes and enjoyed the soft feeling of Josette's fingers on his cheek.

"Yes, I'd have to tear your heart out and roast it on a spit for certain." Josette smiled, "As is the custom of scorned women."

"Well, Hell know no fury and all that," Erik stood and reached for his trousers, "Tell me, my dove . . . you and Gustave are . . . getting along?"

It was Josette's turn to cock an eyebrow, "Erik, he's an infant, how could we _not _get along? Help me with this wretched dress, hm?"

Erik grimaced, "You know, if you dislike dresses so much, why wear them?"

"Changing the subject, very clever. I wear them because that's proper and feminine and horribly inconvenient for doing anything but standing about like a potted plant." Josette grumbled.

Erik's brow furrowed, "But you wear breeches when we go riding."

"True, but you can't really do any serious riding with a dress, have to ride side-saddle and then you can't do anything beyond a trot because you can't post and- Ugh, Erik, I don't understand it either." Josette shrugged, "Ah the burdens of the fairer sex."

" . . . Why not get fitted for some pants? I could have my tailor work with you if you'd like?" Erik supplied, his frown deepening as he held up the heavy dress, "I mean, you're only around the house and these things seem to be a hazard, what if you trip on the stairs because of them? And you can't run or do anything if there's an emergency like, say, a fire."

Josette blinked at Erik, "Are you suggesting I wear trousers?"

"Better than this monstrosity, I'd think. And besides, no one else is here but us, the servants, and Gustave; none of which will talk about it in public." Erik shrugged and dropped the dress, nudging it with his toe.

" . . . the thought never occurred to me." Josette tapped her chin, "If you are indeed suggesting it without meaning to jest, then yes, I would like that very much, it certainly would make running about after Gustave easier, little cub is learning that he can get up on his hind feet by grabbing any stationary object. Had to stop him from pulling down one of the endtables with that hideous vase on it."

"Hmm, if it's the vase I think you're talking about then I'm sorry you stopped him," Erik chuckled and pulled his braces back onto his shoulders, "So, now that we've come full circle back to the 'little cub', as you so splendidly put it, my question stands unanswered."

"Erik, Gustave and I get along just fine." Josette smiled fondly at him as she retied her hair into a braid.

"Yes, so then I have a proposal for you." Erik continued, leaning back on one of the bedposts.

"I thought we were already married?"

"Ah . . . yes, very funny, no," Erik rubbed the back of his neck, "I was wondering about your opinion of family size in relation to-"

"You want to know if I want more children." Josette blinked.

Erik shrugged and glanced off to the side, "Well, yes, if you find it agreeable, I would like to expand our family. Have a child or two with you, my wife. Although, my last experience with child birth has left me wondering if it is worth the risk."

Josette tapped her bottom lip in thought, "This has crossed my mind . . . and yes I would not object to bearing your child. If that is what you want, I was not under the impression that you were overly fond of children."

"Children, no. My offspring, yes. I don't care for other people's progeny, Jo, I am not one to voluntarily associate with small people but, I like having Gustave and I think I would like to be the father of our children." Erik smiled a little awkwardly.

Josette tilted her head then smirked, "Well, then, we are going to need a lot more alone time, so I suggest a nanny for Gustave."

"Right, I will see if I can conjure one up," Erik nodded then grimaced, his hand reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Josette's ear, "I . . . I will admit some apprehension, my dove, at the thought of losing you . . . "

"Erik, not all mothers die in childbirth, mine did not and yours did not, Christine was too young and frail for such things, you will find I am made of hardier stuff." Josette assure, kissing the palm of Erik's hand and shaking her head, "You worry over me more than necessary, my love."

"Oh, no, I worry in just the perfect crippling amount." Erik chuckled, "Now, why don't we see about having a party for our new home?"

"Capital idea, my good sir."

* * *

"Well, this was a mistake."

"Oh, come now, Erik, you really thought that throwing a party would be easy?" Damien chuckled as he checked another set of guests off his list, "And a house-warming party at that."

Erik groaned and put his head down on his folded arms, "I appreciate your help, Father."

"And I am more than happy to give it." Damien smiled as he dipped his pen in the ink to scrawl an address on another envelope, "I'm just surprise you're willing to do this at all."

Erik scoffed, "Believe you me, I'd forgotten two things about throwing parties; one, I have to invite copious amounts of people I either don't like or don't really know to keep up appearances and two, that I would have to be present for the entire party or risk questions being raised."

"You'll get used to it, besides, Erik, this is a big step in the right direction of adulthood." Damien tapped a stack of invitations into a pile and smiled.

"What of the Fawn, is he coming?" Erik asked, sitting up a bit in curiosity.

Damien blinked, "Oh, hadn't I told you? Robért is in England until the spring, he's studying under a very learned old friend as a companion."

Erik's face fell, "He . . . He left?"

Damien grimaced, "Ah . . . Erik, I thought you knew. I thought he would have come to say goodbye."

"So did I." Erik shook his head, "I hope it was because he was so eager to go out into the world rather than that I am a horrible older brother."

Damien shrugged, "Either way, he is gone and won't return until spring. Best not to dwell on it, my dear."

Erik nodded and went back to the blessedly mind-numbing task of writing out invitations.

* * *

"Cousin Erik."

"Raoul."

There was a slightly ripple in the air as the young man stared up at Erik, he didn't look as angry as he had before, more of a quiet resignation.

"I'm very glad you chose to come with your family." Erik said gently, "I . . . I would not have liked you missing it."

Raoul bit his lip then smiled a little, " . . . well, I found that holding a grudge against you to be tiring, cousin, and . . . I would also be a liar if I said that I don't miss our camaraderie, even if you can be a bit of an ass at times."

Erik smiled and put a hand on the shorter young man's shoulder, "I did as well, Raoul."

"Oh, good, now that we're being civil, where's the champagne?" Philippe laughed and threw his arms around both Erik and Raoul.

"One would think you've already located it." Erik's eyebrow rose disapprovingly but he smiled and shook his head, "Come along, Phil, let's get you sitting before you fall over."

"Oh, please, Erik, he isn't sloshed, just his usual annoyingly boisterous self." Raoul laughed, patting his brother on the back.

"There, see? Perfectly sober!" Philippe laughed and picked up a glass of champagne.

Erik shook his head, "I can never tell the difference between sober and drunk with you, Phil."

**A/N: Well there it is! I literally could not write this chapter without having Damien in it, I can't help but absolutely adore his character. Thank you all so much for your support and understanding. I hope you find this agreeable, RnR please!**


	18. Of Mostly Leaving and Closure

**A/N: . . . Nearly a year between updates. ((Sighs heavily)) well . . . let me explain, this was a originally a pseudo-love story for my fiance. That being said here's why things were so badly delayed: Came out of the closet as transgender man, fiance left for good, dropped out of art school, moved in with bigoted parents, banned from seeing some relatives children, attempted suicide, Grandad that I was _very_ close to died a drawn-out painful death, started school again, rediscovered my art, reconnected with some old friends, met current boyfriend, moved into house with friends, feeling like life is worth living again and here I am. Forgive me if you weren't as invested in my personal life as you were in this fic but I felt that it would dishonest to just upload and you all seem to give a damn about me so that's my story. This was supposed to be for my now-ex, but I'm writing this now for my friends and my boyfriend but more importantly for myself and for you. It is not an easy chapter and I will not lie and say that you will be happy with it's direction but I hope that it is satisfying to the story.**

Josette looked up from her embroidery to stroke Gustave's hair as they sat on the sofa, "Gustave, will you be a love and get me some water?"

Gustave nodded and jumped up, going to the kitchen. Josette smiled and was about to go back to her needlework then stopped and looked up at the doorway,

"Yes, Erik?"

Erik leaned on the wood and smiled slowly, "Nothing."

"Would you like to sit next to me?" Josette patted the couch cushion next to her.

Erik nodded and went to stretch out next to her, kicking off his shoes and resting his head on her swollen midriff, his hand stroking slowly over her leg. Josette smiled, setting her embroidery hoop aside and running her hand under Erik's wig, carefully pulling it off and setting it aside then removing his mask. It had taken a very long time for Erik to be alright with her doing this herself and she was more than aware of his tenuous trust of even her when it came to his face. He was such a skittish, nervous creature, despite how stony and cool his exterior was at all times, she knew that underneath was a trembling little rabbit hiding from the world.

"Not much longer now." Josette whispered, looking up when Gustave came in carrying a cup with both hands, "Ah, thank you, sweetheart."

Gustave crawled up onto the sofa again and Erik rolled onto his back, setting the boy on his stomach. Erik smiled as his wife ran her fingers gently through his hair and his son traced the scars on his face, humming a little song about nothing to himself.

"What do you think, Gustave? Will we have a little brother or a sister for you? Hmm?" Erik smiled, taking Gustave's hands and kissing either much to the little boy's delight.

Gustave tilted his head and smiled, showing off tiny white teeth, "Sister!"

"Oh, do you hear that, Mother?" Erik tilted his head back, smiling up at Josette, "Gustave wants a sister."

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure he'll be more than pleased." Josette smiled, shifting her weight to get more comfortable.

Gustave moved to stretch out on top of Erik's torso, resting his head on Erik's shoulder. Erik smiled, hugging the boy and went back to humming. Josette was about to go back to her needlework when there was a knock on the parlor's door. Erik sat up, shifting Gustave to the sofa, slid his wig and mask on in a fluid, practiced motion and answered the door.

It was Damien, the old man was looking rather haggard and his grim face only split into a smile when Gustave hurried over to be picked up in a hug,

"Ah! Easy there, Cub, this old tree isn't as stable as it used to be!"

Erik blinked, "Father, I didn't know you were coming over today. Is something wrong?"

Josette carefully got to her feet to get Damien a drink, "Hello, Father."

"Jo, you're looking lovely, as always." Damien smiled at her and carried Gustave over to his usual chair nearest the fireplace.

Erik crossed his arms, "Father."

"Ah, nothing is wrong, Erik, I have something for you." Damien set Gustave down on the floor and reached into his waistcoast, pulling out a thick envelope, "It's from your brother."

"Robért?" Erik quickly took the envelope and slit it open, "Did something happen? Is he alright? I-"

"Erik, I clearly haven't read it myself so I have no idea what is in that letter. Ah, thank you, Josette." Damien gratefully took the tumbler of brandy from Josette and sat back in his chair.

Erik unfolded the letter and began to read it,

_Dear Erik,_

_ I regret that I won't be able to speak to you in person for some time as my plans to return home for Yuletide have been thwarted by an abundance of paperwork and a lack of extra help. So, I'm writing you this hoping you and Father will be together when you read it and save me time and parchment. What I have to say isn't easy, but then we are both stubbornly immature when it comes to communicating our feelings and thoughts. You see, I'm staying in England. I have no intentions of returning, if ever beyond a visit here and there. I know this is difficult to understand as we've always been so close and Father keeps saying the same thing; 'when you come home this and that', but the truth is, I only ever visit and have no desire to live in his house any longer. I will visit as previously planned, but I will be making my home here now._

_ Now, don't get angry, it isn't that I was wholly unhappy or angry, believe me, I was not happy to be going so far away and without you, but I've discovered something on my travels. I discovered the world, Erik! I actually have friends here and I engage in parties and there's a young woman I've been seeing and I'd like you to meet her as soon as possible, as I won't be home for Yule, I will probably be home around the Easter holiday and she has agreed to come with me._

_ I hope that you and Josette and Gustave and Father are all well and I will write again soon._

_ All my love,_

_ Rob__é__rt_

Erik blinked then smiled, looking at Damien, the older man cocked an eyebrow and finished his drink,

"Erik, I know that look and every time I see it there's some kind of mischief between you two rogues that I may or may not approve of."

Erik folded the letter and chuckled, "Fawn won't be home for Christmas."

Josette's eyes widened, "Why ever not?"

"Well, he says that he has quite a bit of work backed up." Erik shrugged, tapping the letter against his open palm.

"Erik, there's something you aren't telling us." Damien stood up, crossing his arms.

Erik smirked knowingly and tilted his head, "Well, there is _something_ else."

Josette frowned at Erik, "Oh, Erik, will you stop being infuriating and tell us?"

Erik turned to look at them both, "Robért has a lady friend."

There was quiet then Damien laughed, gripping his stomach and shaking his head, "Is that what this is about? Robért is courting? Well, then! I should write him my congratulations!"

Josette breathed out in relief, "Did he say what her name is or any details?"

Erik shrugged, chuckling, "No, but they are both coming home around Easter so he can introduce her to us."

"That is good news! And here I feared the worst," Damien sat back down, lifting Gustave onto his lap, "Especially when he'd write you and not me."

"Why would he send it to Damien's address and not here?" Josette settled against the sofa cushions and folded her hands on her swollen belly.

"Well, he wrote that he wanted Father and I to both see the letter, so I imagine the Fawn knew Father would bring the letter to me." Erik shrugged and moved to sit next to Josette, "He says he's doing very well and would like to stay in England."

"Huh, I'm glad he's adjusted." Damien chuckled and shook his head again.

"As am I, I know we were all worried over him going to England alone." Erik murmured, tapping the letter on his chin, then passed it to Damien when prompted, watching the old man's eyes flicking back and forth over the neat lines of his brother's penmanship.

"Yes." Damien murmured absentmindedly as he read over the letter.

"Will you be staying for lunch, Father?" Josette asked, picking up her embroidery again.

"Well, I suppose I could be troubled to stay for a few moments more, if I'm not imposing?" Damien chuckled and set the letter aside, "Tell me, Erik, how are Phil and Raoul doing with the Opera House?"

Erik chuckled, "It is Raoul who is doing most of the work and Phil helps where he can. I pop in every so often to check the books again and ensure that everything is as it should be."

"I see, and the opera?" Damien tilted his head down to look up at Erik.

Erik blinked in confusion, "The . . . opera, Father? Whatever do you- . . . oh."

Damien shook his head, "Are you ever going to finish it, dear boy?"

Erik sighed and shook his head, "It has taken a backseat, hasn't it?"

"Perhaps that would be something to work on during the winter season? Your brother will be home in the spring and mayhaps that could be your Easter gift to him?" Damien spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture and shrugged, "If you are so inclined, that is."

Erik gave his father a withering look, "While you are most probably correct, Father, your subtlety seems to have slipped in your dotage."

Damien smiled innocently at his elder son and let Gustave get down so he could get himself another drink, "Perhaps."

"Oh, you two! Father is right, though, Erik, that would be a lovely gift for Robért and what better way to impress his lady friend? Hm?" Josette snipped the end of her thread and picked out another color from her basket.

Erik frowned, "One would think that you two are in cahoots with all this like-mindedness."

"Hardly, your lovely wife knows I'm right when I'm right, Erik." Damien chuckled and sat back down, "Now, let's put our heads together and try to guess what kind of girl our Fawn is bringing home!"

"Father, you're incorrigible." Erik shook his head and smiled, "But I do love riddles."

* * *

The winter season stretched before Erik as a dull expanse of infuriatingly bland weather and his normal melancholy toward this part of the year. There was not mush to hold his attention in the world when it was so covered in a gray-scale, predominantly an oppressive white that blinded the eyes when it was sunny and was dull and unappealing the rest of the time.

Erik huffed and rolled over in the bed, shifting his weight in an effort to either get more comfortable or convince himself that he needed to get out of bed and do something with his day. This was by far a more difficult task now that he was an adult then when he'd been a child and would just be told to not to laze about in bed when he should be up.

The man laid out on his back and huffed, staring at the ceiling, it was not likely to be any less winter outside if he remained in bed a moment more . . . Erik sat up and stretched, he was not normally one to stay in bed for so long and it wasn't even that he was tired or had been up too late the evening prior, no, it was just something about this time of year that slowed him down and made him more reluctant to face the world.

"Erik?"

He turned toward the door and stared at his brother for a moment, thinking perhaps not to answer him but then sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed,

"I'm awake, Robért." Erik muttered.

"Being awake and out of bed are two completely different things," The younger De La Roche moved into the room and shut the door, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Are the children awake?"

"For a few hours now, Angela and Gustave wanted to go out and play so I thought I would come and make sure you were still breathing."

Erik grimaced and got up, "Sorry . . . I'm . . . I'm not feeling so well."

"This the kind of sick that I should call a doctor or the kind where you need something to occupy your mind before you push yourself into a pit of misery and self-loathing?" Robért crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow.

Erik snorted and pulled on a shirt, "Your sense of humor has gotten drier."

"Blame the British people I'm around most of the year," Robért shrugged, "In all seriousness though, how are you feeling?"

"I just . . . feel like something bad is going to happen." Erik huffed and stopped buttoning his shirt, "Like there's a cloud hanging over me or some such and if I don't pay attention, the weather will turn."

"I think you're being overly paranoid."

"Maybe, I just-"

There was a knock at the door, "Erik?"

Erik went to the door and opened it slowly, "Yes?"

Josette stood there with a grim look on her face, "Erik, there's something . . . something's happened."

Erik pushed the door open fully and Robért moved to be standing next to his brother,

"What? What's happened?"

Josette swallowed slowly and wrung her hands, "It . . . It's your father."

Erik's arms fell limply at his sides and his heart stopped, he felt his brother grab onto his shoulder, "What about my father?"

"He-He collapsed, they thinks he had a heart attack and-"

"Is he home?" Erik cut her off, rushing into his room to pull on his pants and shoes.

"I- yes, yes, he's home."

"Alright, go and tell the driver to prepare our departure, I assume you're coming with, Robért?" Erik muttered as he set his wig and mask in place.

"Y-Yes." Robért swallowed as Erik hurried past him then grabbed onto Erik's arm, "Erik, what does this mean?"

Erik blinked slowly and took an even breath, "I do not know."

* * *

It was so quiet, Erik could not remember when the house had _ever _been this quiet. There was always music or laughter or yelling or some kind of commotion but now it was silent.

He slowly walked down the stairs and went into Damien's study, looking around at all the things that were so familiar, so much a part of Damien that it was difficult to even think of any of these objects existing without the man there.

Erik moved around the room, there was the old armchair with a book open on the armrest, an empty tumbler on the end table, and the coals were cold in the fireplace. The desk didn't have any ledgers on it as Damien hadn't really been in the business since Erik took over a few years before his . . . decline.

It was difficult to finish the short circuit around the room, thinking on all the times Damien and he had spent in this very room, from the first day Erik had woken up in the house to not a few weeks ago when he and his father had discussed a possible expansion to the shipping company.

Erik stood in front of the desk, how many times had he stood here before? With his father looking over a newspaper or missive to ask what kind of mischief he'd convinced his brother to get into with him? How many times had he yelled hatred and venom at that same man from this spot? He'd always been so full of righteous indignation and anger as a child and adolescent but it had fueled him to be better than expectations of him and thanks to Damien, he'd been able to achieve just that.

"Erik?"

"Hm?" Erik didn't turn around, his hand still on the desk.

"It's . . . It's time to go." Josette moved slowly into the room and put her hand on Erik's shoulder lightly as if she was afraid he'd bite her.

Erik blinked slowly, "Apparently so."

"No, I meant-"

"I know what you meant, Jo, is Robért in the carriage already?"

"Y-Yes, he and the children are waiting." Josette bit her lip, swallowing thickly.

Erik clenched his jaw, staring at the massive chair behind his father's desk, that was just it though wasn't it? _His father's _desk, not just _a desk_, it always would be that way no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that-

"Erik, sweetheart, we should get going."

Erik swallowed and closed his eyes tightly, " . . . I can't."

"What do you mean? We need to get home and make preparations."

"No, you don't understand!" Erik turned around slowly, still holding onto the desk, "I _can't _leave, not just yet, I-I need to . . . to . . . _I don't know_!"

Erik turned back around and gripped the desk tightly with both hands then threw his head back and howled, swiping an arm across the surface of the desk and knocking off anything from it. He fell to his knees and sobbed. Josette hesitated then moved forward, kneeling next to Erik and running her hand soothingly over the nape of his neck,

"Erik . . . let's go home, there's nothing you can do right now."

"But I feel as if I should be able to do _something_!" Erik sobbed, turning his face into her shoulder, "I feel so . . . _helpless_."

"I know . . . I know . . . " Josette murmured, "Let's go."

* * *

Erik was not sure what to do as the people stared in his direction and he was expected to say what he'd carefully written and rewritten on the papers in his hand in his careful, bold script. He had even shut himself in his personal office and refused to eat or sleep until he had the perfect words down to describe what kind of man Comte Damien De La Roche was but then . . .

Erik cleared his throat and put the papers aside, standing at the podium at the end of the church because that's where wakes were held right? In a church . . .

"I," Erik cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them slowly, "I worked for hours to try and find the things I should say about my . . . my father. But, now that I'm here I feel that reading off some rehearsed lines would be so foolish and even the words I wrote were cheap and pandering to anyone of you that knew him so I will start over from scratch."

Erik looked into the crowd and there in the front was his wife, his two children and his brother with his fiance, Abigail. The masked man looked up again and exhaled slowly,

"I met Damien De La Roche when I was about ten or eleven years old from the other side of a cage. My cage. I was kept as a side-show display at a traveling circus under the moniker, 'The Devil's Child'. Damien bought me, there's no other way to put it, and I soon learned many things from him. I was taught to read and write and be a gentlemen but there was more, so so much more," Here he licked his lips and took a slow breath, "He taught me things I'd forgotten; trust, safety, and love. He taught me to smile and laugh again. He taught me to see the world through my own eyes and not those of my tormentors and more importantly to see myself. Damien taught me that the world was beautiful if you let it and while there is sorrow, pain, and loneliness in store for any young person, there is a future much brighter and more worthwhile than any imaginable. He taught me to be myself and to never give up. To never be satisfied with just living and to _live."_

There was a beat of sniffling silence as Erik looked sown at his hands to gather his thoughts again and breathe,

"I don't know where I would be today or who I would be, if not for him. Because of what he did one night for a small boy in a cage, I grew to be a man with a wife, children, a brother, friends and a livelihood. But there's more than that that I am grateful for, Damien took a lonely, angry, wild little boy and gave him happy memories and a sense of self-worth, he gave me so much more than I can even put into words. So . . . I will m- . . . miss my Fa-Father very much." Erik grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath but it was becoming very difficult and tears were leaking unbidden from the corners of his eyes, "I'm so-sorry, I- . . . "

Josette quickly went up the stage and put her hand on Erik's shoulder, gently leading him back to his seat next to Robért where the younger De La Roche quickly pulled his older brother into his arms.

* * *

As the carriage pulled away, rain started to fall in a very cliché kind of way and Erik mused on this as he stared blankly out the window while he held his little daughter on his lap.

"Erik?"

"Hm?"

"Dear?"

Erik blinked and slowly looked over at his wife, "Yes?"

"Asking if you're alright doesn't make any sense so I won't, but I will ask if there's anything within my human ability that I could possibly do for you when we get home?" Josette said softly as she stared down at the footboards.

Erik stared at her for a moment then he reached over and took her hand, gently squeezing and leaning a bit to catch her eyes, her red, swollen eyes still full of tears,

"You're already doing all you could possibly do for me, my love." he murmured and she nodded sadly then leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I still can't-"

"Believe it?"

"Yes . . . that."

"I suppose we just-"

"Assumed he'd live forever?"

"Mhm."

Erik and Robért sat in Erik's parlor staring into the fire with Raoul and Philippe sitting on the other sofa next to theirs. Raoul slowly turned the tumbler of brandy between his hands and opened his mouth to say something then closed it. Philippe kept rubbing his eyes and chin in a distracted manner then he huffed,

"As odd as it is, I'm at a loss for words and I feel no desire for brevity . . . "

They all looked at him, the elder De Chagny blinked,

"Oh what? You all feel like laughing right now?"

"I could actually use a reason to smile again at the moment." Erik mumbled.

Raoul bit his lip then perked up, "Do you . . . remember that time when we tried our hand at jousting?"

Robért snorted, "Oh yes, you morons took Father's horses and some broom handles and somehow Erik convinced you both to charge at each!"

Erik smirked, "It _might _have been funny if Father hadn't come huffing and puffing out with his face red and angry."

"Oh yes, 'What the Devil are you fools doing? You'll stab an eye out!'." Phil puffed his chest out in a pretty good imitation of Damien.

"Or how about that time you and I got into his brandy and drank ourselves sick?" Erik chuckled and sat back, "We were vomiting for hours afterward."

"I thought Uncle Damien was going to wring our necks the time Phil and Erik and I rearranged all of Robért's things that one time!" Raoul laughed.

"Or the time when we let that one tenants cows out of the pen?" Phil offered.

"How about when Raoul and I took Erik's paints and 'redecorated' his room?" Robért snickered.

They sat back and laughed for a while then, once they'd wiped the tears of mirth out of their eyes and caught their breath, the four men looked at each other and the realization of the day's events came back to them.

Erik shook his head, " . . . I half expect him to come through the door to ask what all the ruckus is about."

Robért nodded, "I know, it just goes to show how much people mean in your life, how much you expect them to just be there forever and when they aren't, you feel the hole in your heart ache."

Erik blinked slowly at his brother then put a hand on his shoulder, "You're absolutely right . . . and it's going to ache for a very _very _long time but . . . maybe one day we can sit and laugh without feeling empty afterwards."

"I hope so." Robért murmured.

**A/N: I wrote this in the same manner as my Grandad's funeral. I have never lost someone so close to me that seemed like they'd go on forever. The opera is never written because it doesn't have to be, Erik wanted his brother to see the world but Rob****ért** **found it on his own. Yes, I rushed through Josette's pregnancy and Angela the second child without barely any mention but that too didn't need much detail as you probably all already picture one thing or another. And to be honest . . . I didn't know how to write Abigail and only came up with her name at the last second as the focus of the story is Erik . . . it's always Erik, isn't it? He represents some of the best and worst things in mankind, the passion and the darkness . . . sorry, musing on things. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed this fic and that you aren't too disappointed with me! Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me, it has been very fulfilling.**


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